easyidler

2012-01-10T10:58:00.000-08:00

I was walking in a field in the foothills of the Drakensberg Mountains many full moons ago.
It was a place of much lightning and thunder. It was where Sage was conceived. It was where Jack
was born. The dogs chased something up a tree, a whole pack consisting of my dogs and the farmers dogs.
Pieter found Jack, a creature the size of my palm hanging on for dear life. With his wild cat markings.

He journeyed with us cross country. Sharing a small car with toddlers and an infant and Jack moving around as he pleased stretching at his convenience and meowing at his leisure. We would stop in a huge field and never feel the need to contain him. He would wander around and when it was time for us to move out, he would know, he would just be there. Where we spent the night, a window would be left open and he would hop out and again appear when ................

He had years of sharing his space with uncaged animals. Birds sleeping on his body, rats perch on his head and he just lay there, purring, not resisting a dam thing in the world. Lizards would size him up. Snakes slither over him. Guineas rest on top of him. In his world everything was perfect. Looking at him was looking at perfect equanimity. Even when he lost his sight a few years ago he would make his way to the furtherst reach of the garden and up the dilapidated old staircase leading to the loft. Always finding the most perfect deep shadow in summer and dappled light in winter.

I have wanted to put him down for a few weeks now. He just circled and circled the same spot in the garden, meowing, unable to move in a straight line - his joints hanging out of their sockets. Seemingly searching for a place to die. Weighing only 2kgs. To painful to be touched and held. But Pieter was adamant not to be instrumental in his death. For some reason he was of the thought that to die naturally was the only option. . He felt that Jack still experienced moments of joy. I also think his mother, who lives with us is extremely frail, and perhaps at some known or unknown level he wanted to reassure her that he would not will her death in any way. Although she would look at Jack and shake her head and say the poor bloodie cat.

Lat night - with full moon in cancer - wolf moon - i ventured into the garden to check on him. Tao was with me. He was very restless. We sat with him for a very long time. He then made it clear to me he wanted to be alone. We chanted for a while.

It was with gratitude and a profound sense of loss that I happened upon his body this morning in the leaves alongside the dam nearby the chickens roost. He was still soft as I held him and said farewell.

The journey continues without this beings physicality - and yet where could he ever go that would not be
in my heart,

something astonishing presents itself

2011-12-20T13:02:00.000-08:00

With everything happening on this planet that is evil, horrendous and without redemption there is one thing is astounding and delighting me .
It is not a metaphysical construct or understanding, not a mystery to be unraveled; it is a physical object.
Comet Love joy was discovered by an amateur astrologer, Australian i think. The name is vital here whose name could not be cooler, yes Lovejoy. Now a short while ago we were told that this comet would burn out upon presenting itself into the sun's atmosphere. Except that it wasn't destroyed, it emerged in tact and whole. Not only did it come out but it came out with a beautifully strong tail.
It will be visible early morning in our skies here in the southern hemisphere at this auspicious time – the summer solstice. Or Winter. Depending on where one finds oneself.
So at this time when in the name of the religious gods, evil continues to wreak its suffering - there is a sign in the space around us which carries such potent symbolism. Love and joy enter the fires of hell and emerge unscathed.
love will prevail
joy will expand.
both will shine

It is time. It is time. It is time.

Wishing all of you brilliance, understanding, love, joy and peace

bholonath, nina, zoner, genie, neil

2011-11-27T07:44:00.000-08:00

thank you so much for visiting.
and bho thanks for the link. there does seem to be an octopus meme at the moment.
something to do with their ability to squeeze themselves into nothingness.
and you know it would not surprise me if they could cope with radiation better than other sea creatures.
gladly they can't get stuck in fishing nets as they would be able to squeeze out what will kill their neighbours.

but moving from ocean to land .......

oona and nina during break

a few months ago a friend of mine was considering leaving the village.
she had built a cob house in the village almost solo but needed to earn an income.
happens to be one of those teachers that just manages to bring out the creativity in all her students.
an undogmatic waldorf teacher is my friend oona.

i don't want her to leave and as she is telling me this iona is battling down the passage with the sewing machine. her brother has offered to pay her in freshly picked apricots if she fixes a shirt.
oona gets up to go and help her and an idea was born.
she now has a center of creative expression which consists of 6 kids.

a birthday - the group makes a cake

she loves going off to 'school' absolutely no pressure, just a celebration of all of life in a very cool group of people.

the group has been going since august and yet there has been a fullness in her experiencing that i wish each child on the planet could have. i love that this child will for days go to school with unbrushed hair and there is no issue. i love the way that she can go barefoot even through winter without some school laws engaging her wildness. i love the fact that she has made so many beautiful objects on her own. i love the fact that each child in the group is so unspoilt and so in touch with their environment.

i love how iona's love of animals has become an integral part of the school day and school life.

painting their cushion covers

exploring their kingdom.............

look at the focus on nelaya's face

mary clays

a lot of magic happens here......

iona

2011-11-26T09:56:00.000-08:00

falls in love with the octopus .....

and as a result i do as well......

taking care

2011-10-17T08:19:00.000-07:00

to find the plants to nourish and heal

A second in hell.....

2011-10-11T06:57:00.000-07:00

I am driving along, slowly in the town.

I see a young girl on the side of the road waiting – and then in the next second there is a thud and the windscreen splinters.

Oh my god.

I pull to the side of the road. My heart is beating so fucking fast. I ask the hitchhiker next to me if he is able to go to the child. He says no. I can’t move towards her. I find myself making my way to the vets rooms. I know the women there. Tanya immediately goes outside. Sandra calls the ambulance and police. I am sitting on the bench where I normally sit with my animals, but now there is some internal animal of grief and shock in place of them.

The chairs are red plastic. I see people streaming to the child. I just breathe very heavily, very deliberately. There is nothing I can do. An accident has happened and I was the instrument.

In between I scream deeply and loudly, I am torn apart.

Tanya walks to the child – Ruanda – 7 years old who is lying in the middle of the road with people all around her but no one actually down on the ground with her. So Tanya (bless her) goes onto the ground and talks to the child. The child asks her if she is dying and she answers of course not silly- you are still talking aren’t you. The child and Tanya bond there whilst waiting for the ambulance.

Tanya with her enigmatic aliveness and compassion just showering onto this child. I am inside not knowing if she is alive or dead. It is the most agonizing state of not knowing. The ambulance comes and Ruanda asks Tanya if she will go with her to the hospital. Tanya said no, but that she would go and visit her there. Her mother was there as well. But like me could not bear to do what Tanya did so effortlessly and graciously. I could not have asked for a better angel c being at that moment.

Unable to drive home, Sandra delivered me to my door, where I was met with embraces and support.

Tanya just called to say that Ruanda was released from hospital and is fine.

So after the shock I find myself in a funk. Like a low grade depression moving in and then this voice says out loud – for fucks sake susan you should be joyous and you should be celebrating. Yes you were in an accident. But the child is safe, you are insured, your license was in order (kind of rare).

At any second it could have become a racial issue, because the group gathered around could so easily become a mob, as is happening with frequency nowadays. People are just getting hungry enough for intolerance to grow.

Everyone involved in this ‘accident’ from the police to the insurance, to my friends at the vet – for Ruanda herself in that her destiny was not to die or be maimed at that moment in time.

And for me, I obviously had to have this experience at this moment in time.

Otherwise it could not have happened.

So I am sitting here with a fat smile on my face and thanking life so intensely for me not being in profound grief right now.

Thank you for making the lesson so light.

It is about making each moment count - we never know when it will be our last.

I choose to dance with life more fully than ever before.

And the fact that Gadaffi is still free and fighting those fuckers - well it just makes it more of a celebration.

Sage when he was younger - i love the shadow of the snake on his t-shirt.

A testimonial of healing.....

2011-09-29T07:30:00.000-07:00

Pieter sent me this letter that he was sending out.
I found it so extremely beautiful and truthful that I wanted to give it greater readership.

Artwork by Burnie :http://fingeryou.blogspot.com/

If you have seen me in the past three months, you will have noticed that I
have been swept up in a wave of renewed strength and joy.

There’s an upbeat energy pulsing in my veins and it is evident in every
aspect of my life.

I feel more patient, loving, optimistic and aware of the presence of Love.

The turning point came on 22nd July of this year when I met a very powerful
healer from Brazil. She is respected by all who meet her. Some fear her, but
most revere her. She can assess in a matter of minutes what it is that you
need and then provide it in the right form and quantity.

Whether at the physical, mental-emotional or spiritual “level”, she meets
you where you are and then brings you back to balance.

She can be merciless in the way that she dives into your depths and brings
up your “stuff”, instinctively knowing and choosing what is appropriate.

To meet her is to step out of the hallway of life and into a room of
alacrious reality.

I’ve never seen healing like this in all my 24 years of being involved in
the healing arts/sciences.

I spent three evenings in a row with her and then later a fourth, watching
her at work with me, my family, friends and several clients that I had
referred to her.

I came to respect her and the people with whom she works - enormously!

She “read” me easily and correctly and went through the various aspects of
my life, telling me exactly what was needed to bring each to balance.

She was accurate on *every* count and I believe that just her presence
helped heal me in fundamental ways. There are still places in me that await
further attention and I’ll be going back to let her dig deep and cleanse out
my furthest, darkest “recesses”.

It will be my privilege to open up and allow further healing.

I had tears of joy and gratitude rolling down my cheeks after our first
encounter.

I cannot speak too highly of her.

Her name is Ayahuasca and she takes the form of a plant - a vine that grows
in the Amazon, to be exact. When you drink of her nectar she reveals herself
to you and then you are left in no doubt as to her wisdom, love and healing
presence.

If you would like to read more about this profoundly effective plant
medicine then take a look at:

There comes a time, in the journey from illness to health when powerful and
extraordinary measures are called for. See one man’s account of healing from
liver cancer with this plant:

http://www.maps.org/news-letters/v08n3/08322top.html

and another who experienced healing from deep depression, as the Ayahuasca
took her on a harrowing journey to recover the aspects of herself that
splintered off in childhood:

http://www.nationalgeographic.com/adventure/0603/features/peru.html

Ayahuasca was introduced to me by two solid, honorable and talented men who
won my respect for their skill in conducting ceremonies and dealing with
human complexities and they have my gratitude for bringing her halfway
across the earth to meet me.

They are Yawa Bane, of the Huni Kuin and his South African counterpart and
assistant Nixiwaka.

Three weeks ago I was offered the opportunity to get to know this teacher
plant more deeply, this time on her home turf - the deepest Amazon jungle.

I feel delighted and privileged to have received an invitation to join a
small group of South Africans, led by Nixiwaka, who have been granted
special permission to travel deep into the Brazilian Amazon, right up close
to the frontier with Peru and to live awhile with this tribe, the Huni Kuin
Kaxinawa, from 12th December 2011 till 4th January, 2012.

To find out more about the tribe named “People of Truth” who live so close
to nature, take a look at:
http://www.sunmoon.co.za/Amazon_visit.html?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Huni+Kuin+Kaxinawa+%28The+People+of+Truth%29+%2F+...&utm_source=Sunmoon+Mail+list+%28YMLP%29&utm_term=For+more+information+please+cl
...

Or http://sunmoon.ens-mail2.net/qyaraueweataeqmavayhbq/click.php

In order to avail myself of this opportunity I need to take some time off
from family, friends and clients. No problem - they understand that it is
the opportunity of a *lifetime.*

To avail myself of this amazing offer, it will be necessary to fly to Sao
Paolo, then by small plane to Rio Branco (five day stay over) and then a
boat ride up the river to the home of the Huni Kuin, along with my
contribution to food, accommodation and medicine. This will take
considerable funding.

My recent past and current circumstances have made it impossible for me to
have put savings aside for such an opportunity yet I feel that my vitality
and aliveness are calling out for just such a journey - one of those forks
in the road that says, "Go big, or go home".

Would *you* be at all interested in meeting with and partaking of this
unusual and powerful healing plant, with the help of those who are
experienced in her ways - thus bringing the spirit of the Amazon into your
life, whether through sacred ceremony or individual work?

Would you be willing to help me make this dream come true, whether through
advance payment for encounters to come, with the available guide/s of your
choice, or simply as a donation that will put a smile on my heart for the
rest of my life?

Please let me know if you are moved to help me, whether in some small or big
way, to melt away my comfort zone to* *more fully rediscover the ancient
ways, and then bring this inspiring, teaching medicine back for you to
experience in turn.

Kind regards,

Pieter van der Westhuyzen.

Stepping out of mind.....god willing

2011-09-16T13:07:00.000-07:00

My mind is no longer my friend. I don't know when we reached this impasse but it seems to have stretched for an eternity. It is what comes between what is. It is not that there is any animosity towards it. It is , rather there occurs a delight in its absence. Alongside the most profound thought I can have, is the pettiest thought. With the most noble feeling is ride the smallest sense of me. Thought is mind.
Mind can be rampant if unchecked and seduced.
In the space between thoughts there is a stillness, a cherished space where nothing can touch the untouchable. A space of pure being - the natural state.

And yet what seems to have become a pattern is mind is running the show for longer stretches of time. Or maybe not even more spent in its tyrrany but rather more emotions arising in its presence. Mostly resistance - resistance to that over there arising in 'this world'.

Upon awaking in the morning, my son Tao and I head up to the dam where we do our sungazing and walk the dogs.   Because we are in a mountain kingdom by the time the earth spins sufficiently for the sun to be visible it is already quite intense. It starts off as a strip of light around the mountain and gradually exposes its full beauty and majesty. The dam full for now due to winter rains, is either still beyond belief or raging with its own patterns.
At this point all is well in my world. There is peace, there is tranquility and there is silence.

Until I come home and turn this machine on. And link myself up to hell. My main attraction was to the people I have come to know and love on here, but I see and hear too little for them for the balm of love to heal. Instead I sit and cover myself in excrement. Like today for example Cameron and Sarkozy today declaring they are going to keep bombing Libya.
Like Prick Perry apparently being behind a bill to make the guardasil vaccine mandatory. 49
young women have already died for this and yet this industrial murdering machine allows it to continue. And even here in Africa big pharma is threatening to shut all us herbalists down. We won't even go into hackgate and how the entire met in London is free masons. Is there any wonder that justice had not been served for Daniel Morgan or Madeleine McCann.
And every day it just gets sicker. Every day I find the stench getting more unbearable.
This is the energy I am aligning myself to. This is where I put my attention. And does it help in any way - not a squat.
Can I stop myself from watching the cesspool. No.

Just go and look at WRH today. I don't think the page has ever looked worse. Every story is such a travesty. One wonders how on earth it got so bad. Like going to sleep with a mouth full of chewing gum. The damage done. On to the next one. My entire body closing down as the 57 trillion cells that I call me, sense the rest of its body's slaughter and heartache. I feel it to the core.
The village baker catches me on a walk the other day. She can just look at me and say a number up to 10. When she says 10 then I am somersaulting in delight, if one then I am almost under. She say 2 - and I go yeah.

My spiritual teacher tells me it is all just an appearance. And I just feel well this horror at the injustice might just be an appearance, yet, it is appearing. I am not separate from the child in a burn ward screaming, screaming, screaming. I am not separate from the mother hearing the screaming and her heart smashing open. And all she can do is hum softly.
In Iraq, In Afghanistan, In Gaza, and now in Libya. Like 57 trillion cells that make up this body/mind in the dream, are connected to every other 57 trillion cells that make up other body/minds. All one cell in humanity - human unity.

And then I listen to Jed McKenna and he says he looks upon burn wards and opening flowers with the same eye. And that too is true.
There are so many ways for this experiencing to manifest.

By grace, after several hours wrestling with the magnitude of this injustice - life calls me into the garden where I partake of a plant. And suddenly as the smoke rise, mind sinks.   There are no burn wards, there are no heartbroken mothers, there are no corrupt cops. There is no injustice and stupidity. There is simply the sun, the uncurling leaves, the sweetest aromatic smells of spring.   My amygdala dance in joy and delight. The malachite sunbird swoops in op die wilde dagga.   The life has risen again. It is unfurling and I am experiencing it. Full on beauty. No concepts or stories.

Ahhhhhh- but there is that mind again that feels the need to be taken back to the scenes where so much is felt.   And again the 57 trillion cells are kept away from the beauty and life and fed something different. Not meaning to pontificate in making a value judgement about one way being right and one way being wrong. And I would love to accept whatever appeared. But for that to happen, this individuated mind needs to lose itself. It is not even about choosing it. It happens, it unfolds. It appears to be part of the programming. How does one break away from the conditioned mind?

I find myself in the garden by some spiky cactus. I am told it is san pedro. growing right at the back, to the right of the vegetable garden. I have noticed how quickly it has grown. I also see that there are parts that have been cut and the ends placed on the earth to re root.
Tao comes over to me and we look at them bathed in the sunshine. Some mouse birds nearby in the loquat tree. The chickens foraging passionately around us. He looks at me and asks me if I want to try it. Why not - We prepare it - way too much of it. A long process. We drink it - way too much of it. And it tastes bad in addition to being slimy and gelatinous. An instant gagging process but I want a break from mind - i want to return to the natural state , nothing else calls me deeper.

And as the plant energy causes a change in consciousness, mind feels this absolute terror.
I breathe into it. I know it is too late to bail out. I have deliberately eliminated milk thistle from the environment - i want to lose my mind. And yet when the decoding starts I petition to the energy. Firstly I beg for gentleness. No smatterings. No aborted awakening landing one in a life time of shizoidism. I don't even want the beautiful visions and patterns. What my eyes hold in this paradigm is of beauty enough. I don't want anything that is not always present because then it will be lost. So plant, show me what you are and thus what I am.
And then I find myself with my true intention in taking that plant and that is to know love.

And suddenly the hallucination turns itself off.
The fire is burning beautifully and there are two candles on the table. There is a picture I have placed on the chair opposite me. Next to this image lies a cat. Every thing is as I know it - there is a great peace - there is a return to normalcy. Except that the picture on the couch is moving. The face is definitely moving. The eyes stretch into a smile and the cheeks move in and out as it breathes. I go to get the picture and bring it closer to me.
This body is so very light that it feels as if my arms hardly exist - and yet in this lightness they reach out to the frame. And the next thing I am looking at love. Pure love. Those eyes are these eyes. Not separate. Not two. For hours and hours the gaze continues. Tears flow river like. Bliss. This is Bliss.

Suddenly this reality changes. The plants have availed themselves to me effortlessly and with no cost. The journeys become increasingly frequent and are always solo.
A year ago I spoke of how Pieter wanted to move into the city and put the kids in schools etc. He journeyed with a shaman into the land of ayahuasca and he saw the light. He is wanting to bring the plants into his repertoire. The dream keeps changing.
Thankfully.

A few nights ago I dreamt of enormous boas. Several meters long and bigger than my waist. We were in a tangle and I was absolutely helpless. I was being taken by the serpents. The next day we are offered a place in an ayahuasca ceremony in a village just over the mountain. One has to go around the mountain to get to it. Very different from here, much greener, much softer.

So once again the opportunity arises for the healing that happens in the absence of identification.
A ' teacher' says no action needs to be taken.
And of course he is right.
Once again mind sits in fear that it might just lose itself.
And still the dance is danced.

I enter this realm again with the intention of love.
Nothing more than love.
May it fill my very being till completion.
May this cell in the body of humanity catch some light.

Note : The face above, that of Ramana Maharshi. Meeting his teachings was an eye opener. For many years I had one book. And no photograph. And at that age I was prone to devotion. When we moved to this village, I met someone who had been to the ashram in India and who gave me a photograph. A few years later I went myself and the librarian took a shine to me and sent me boxes of books and photographs of Ramana. Suddenly we had these pictures and after the fire they were the only pictures we had. Slowly they found frames. A friend of mine, an over top extremely camp decorator used to walk in roll his eyes and say oh god the ole guy again. So this picture is always with me. Always.
And yet on this occasion it spoke.
It spoke the only language worth hearing.

maybe, must maybe, Libya can prevail.

2011-09-01T11:14:00.000-07:00

Well, we were told Tripoli had fallen that Muammar Gadaffi was slinking away in the sewers and this heart froze.

No, no came the scream from the entire being.
If this madness is not brought to an end now - then it will never cease.
The insanity of corporate takeovers becomes nation take overs.
And now it is not the photocopiers that are split up between different sections, it is real limbs, it is real families, it is the total future. And yet funnily enough it always plays out on the stock exchange. If we note, the American market has not plummeted to the bottom of the ocean where it belongs.

Many years ago I had a dream of being in the desert and coming upon an encampment and meeting this man. In the dream there was no conflict and he was in a rush to another area, yet I was taken by his empathy, his presence and his humour. Why this dream arose I have no idea, but I have always looked upon him with the utmost respect.

And yet, what does one do in the face of this onslaught.
Which is total.
But which does show that this man has a lot of support to have survived what he has survived.
My prayer is that he continues to not only survive but to overcome and in turn become the conqueror.

Several things arise:

Every half an hour a candle is lit.
At the end of the day there are candles burning throughout the house.
Each one has the intention for the mammalian energy to win this war.
The energy that speaks of equality, of honouring the people in your land, of having a faith, of living with integrity and not deliberately harming others of understanding the intelligence of community.
On the other side of this is the reptilian energy which is solo - actions which are taken for the benefit of one and never more than self.
Thousands of black Libyans are currently being rounded up by the sponsored killers.
Muammar is speaking of not hiding like women but destroying it all.
Because why the hell should they leave anything for the invading forces to benefit from.
Maybe, just maybe this determination might just be the one which event in space and time which unhinges the axis that this warmongering has benefited from of late.
And some forces feed on the blood bled and yet other forces celebrate each act of truly tribal organisation and dynamics and the harmony that arises from that.

It has occurred to me that we are not powerless individuals anchored in the waters of chaos and horror. That we have the ability and the majesty to create what we desire. Not for our individual selves, like the car and the home and the picket fence and such, but those desires that are for the greater good of all.
It is a standard meditation to breathe in the white light and release all the darkness from within oneself.
I feel it would be appropriate if we all breathe in all the horror happening in Libya right now, bring it into our own beings, meet it there with full awareness and presence, and release back to Libya the purest light and joy. The absolute best intention. A faith in divine intelligence prevailing and winning.

I don't know what else to do.
Please join me in these simple steps in taking care of our fellow cells in this vast body of humanity.
Let the light shine in this darkness.

My apologies to Libya

2011-08-22T09:22:00.000-07:00

I am angry.
I am so angry that I do think spontaneous combustion could occur - if anger had any cause to play in its happening.
I can't move away from it.
I have snapped at my kids, just yelled at my dogs, swore at my neighbour.
It feels like gravity has grabbed me and sucked me into a downward spiral and no amount of awareness of conscious breathing seems able to stop it.

I know over the past years we have all ranted about many things.
The oil spill, god i don't want to even bring to mind the fucking insanities that we have witnessed.
Fukishima did not do this to me.
There was a natural element in it - something that once opened could not be stopped.
Could kill us all but could not be stopped.

This war in Libya has been on going for 6 months.
For 6 months any nation in the world could have done something to stop it.
Nothing.
No - one.
Not one country efforted to stop this travesty from unfolding.
Not Russia, not China - no - one.
Pontifications would get small notice in the press and yet no ultimatum.
No hey guys unless you are out by such and such we are going to attack......
Does Nato not have enemies for gods sake that could benefit from helping Libya at this moment in time and thus halting the imperialists from the killing of Islam in their wars.

Nope, it appears not.
They are all players in the same game.
All fucking killers and looters.

Whilst hospital wards in an ancient city are filled with trauma so unimaginable to us. So far removed from our lives. - thousands of families are today in the deepest shock, physically , mentally and spiritually. Their faith must be tested so fully right now that my heart pounds for them.
Cameron returns home from a little holiday to be on hand for the fall of Tripoli -
wearing his genteel summer clothes.
and I gentle being that I have been want to take him and cut him into little pieces.
And his nemesis on the other side of the ocean. The one who sold his soul to his keepers.
And equally their puppeteers , their manipulators.
And I can't rise above it.
And I can't rise above it and see it as a dream....- all a perception, all just a dream.
I hear voices from this land, and I see images of people from this land and they are real.
They had lives before this and now there is just ruin.
Last night over 1300 dead and the hospitals overflowing.
And they postulate in the liberal corners - but they do nothing to stop it.

And the lying media whores who sanctioned and allowed this to unfold -
I curse each and everyone of you, I find no forgiveness in my hearts for you.

I can't understand how this can happen.
Again and again and again ......
My heart has broken open - to the people of Libya I offer my smashed up heart and my complete loss of faith in my fellow man and the most sincere prayer for total transformation for all of you.

To Libya -

I am sorry
Please forgive me
I love you.

The beauty of imperfection....

2011-07-11T12:09:00.000-07:00

This fast collapsing reality has gone through several phases. It went from shock, horror and rage then settled in a sort of bemused disbelief and now it has settled into a feeling that I have no words for. A dull heaviness. An incomprehension of how this can all continue for so long.
And with this came a thickening of the frown lines and an absence of the laugh cracks. And the thing is it does not abate this force driving towards extinction, right now there is not even a lull whereby one can regain one's balance, reach equanimity.

With this feeling pervading I find myself invited to a mycelium gathering in the city. A place I usually avoid at all costs, but I needed some input here. Needed to move beyond the thinking and back into the heart space.   Strangely the city that I normally shun, offered something that I sought.
Bidding farewell to kids, animals and home the road before me opened up. Along with gale force winds and storms to tell the future generations about. And yet, the usual trepidation was absent. Leaving the single lane farm roads and joining into the multi lane configurations also left me unaffected. Just watching everything. Noticing the baboon tribe by the tunnel and the infants playing on a switch box. Wondering how come one never sees baboons run over. How do they do it, they often come down from the mountains to the highway to seek some entertainment. To go and check out the humans as we stream past, stopping to sometimes feed them despite the warning signs not to. And then through the tunnel which always makes me think of Diana and her last tunnel experience, and yet this somberness does not penetrate. For some reason I am less inclined to be in effect.

But you know as soon as you think you are improved in some way, presence conspires to set you up. She does this by upset - ing you. set up. up set. Just when I think I have reached a place of truth and comfort, life just shows me something that leaves me asking myself do i actually know anything at all?

This question leads me on this journey.
It appears that in the dream state, when it is recalled in the morning by the waking state, the feelings are different . For example in the waking dream, I am on a journey with my partner. I have such a strong longing for a resumption of physical intimacy with the man and yet I feel unable to approach anymore. And in this dream I really am okay with the absence of touch. Funnily enough at the guest house, when shown a choice of rooms he chose the one with separate beds as the 'cozy' one. And I was so okay with it. Went to sleep in my own bed with a big smile and gratitude.   Yet in the dream I was screaming at the top of my voice, love me, touch me. So which one is it, which one am I. Am I both or am I none ?

We are sitting at the beachfront. There is a light drizzle. It is not a wild beachfront, it is gross outer city kind of stuff. Have just come out of a mall where rampant consumerism was witnessed, envy felt, even a bit of a poor me arising. Now we are waiting to go the gathering but need to pass some time. The yellow lights on the promenade go on. The sun is almost setting . The top half of the sky is a thunderous black and a slither at the bottom is a brilliant orange. On the beach two men are scanning with detectors. I notice both of them are getting their legs wet and cold in the Atlantic ocean. There is a heaviness in the car. No words just sitting. The phone rings and it is answered. His voice all jovial,   It happens often. It is no big deal. I am okay with it. He gets out to walk and I sit in the car, feeling 12 again. And yet in the dream I had that night I found myself lying on the floor in a Russian psychiatric hospital screaming how I really want to respond not react, why can't I just stop reacting. Again which one is me? The passive 12 year old sitting in the rain, or the raving screaming disappointment of someone unable to pull away from habitual reaction.

And then we arrive where the gathering is to take place.
A fire greets me.
19 of us willing to lose control of thinking sit in our cocoons chewing on our shrooms and helping it down with some dark swiss chocolate. candles flickering, music embracing I watch my fellow travelers start to receive the gift of the plant. Normally called teacher plants but I like Zoner's name for them - plant allies. Sat upright iin a gathering of people, all willing to have a shift of perception. All open to a loss of the norm. All ready to be touched by the unknowable. Felt such awe for the fellow travellers. Tears just fell down. Not of sorrow but of pure pure joy. Feeling love and nothing but love. That night there were no dreams.

And of course in the morning there is the voice that says ah that was astonishing and now of course I have realized. And then of course life slices in with a gift that once again goes to show that there is not going to be one final realization. They are constantly happening and yet I have been seeking one big one that would end the need for all experiencing. And of course that is not what is about. It is about the dynamic play of Presence through this being. No past, no future, this dance that is danced. This breath that is breathed. This life that is lived. With all the nuances, textures, inspirations and challenges. Amidst those pure states of being.

In between all the stories flashing in front of me via this screen, all of them so touching, the one that really inspires me are those that are standing up to the authorities as far as feeding the homeless go. I saw an image of a table of beings serving food to a queue of beings. The fact that this is illegal and they could be arrested is just the crowning glory on the insanity facing it all. Humanity is coming into its own. Moving away from selfishness that we have come to be and moving towards a situation where it is no longer about me but us, no longer about them but about we. The air is crackling with potentiality. Rupert Murdoch's slide makes me smile - the systems are falling down.

A song found me that just caused an outpouring of love. Was sitting in my study, feeling the sorrow that always enters upon conversing with my mother. These interludes in presence once again highlighted my lacking as a daughter. How this one person has come as my greatest teacher. Knows exactly how to push buttons and thus highlight my attachments and defenses. So I am listening to this song and feeling this regret and my fingers click and a posting appears about a mother having parted this earthly realm. This combination created an outpouring of love which by some miracle found its way to the woman who has mothered me tirelessly through this life. I found those words that are so vital being uttered to her - i am so sorry, please forgive me, i love you and upon saying those words a veil lifted. A contraction released itself .

There is truly such power in love.

The One Who Loves You The Most :
When the sky is falling from above you
And the wind is raging from the coast
And you want someone who truly loves you
I will be the one who loves you the most

When the masquerades in burlesque falls
But come too ordinary to boast
You complain about the rain and hurting calls
I will be the one who loves you the most
I will be the one who loves you the most

When the women with their stolen graces
Don't invite you to play host
To their daughters with fake faces
I will be the one who loves you the most

When all the debutants desert you
All the doorways are all closed
And all the harlequins who've hurt you
I will be the one who loves you the most
I will be the one who loves you the most

When you'll suit a sneering swank beside you
And leave you hollow like a ghost
And you just want somebody to come find you
I will be the one who loves you the most
I will be the one who loves you the most

When you forgive your imperfections
And you've auctioned all your clothes
And you look to see your true reflection
You will be the one who loves you the most
You will be the one who loves you the most
You will be the one who loves you the most

the purity of cycles

2011-06-21T08:04:00.001-07:00

I don't need to say anything more than that but it is bubbling up within.

With everything going on that we are being made aware of, today
something just tips the balance.
Something happens that makes me say - whoa - wow- gosh and shit.

A plane crashes in Russia.
44 passengers dead.
Upon reading that the first question that arose has to be
"who was on that plane?"
Sure enough three hours later we are told about the astonishing
co-incidence of there being two top nuclear engineers on board.

I have never thought of a third world war.
I thought it would just be the imperialist nations continuing to blitz
whoever they felt like with no one opposing their actions.
And this has carried on for an agonizingly long time.
The perpetual appeasement.
The perpetual speaking out against the acts of war and yet enabling
their continuation by the lack of action taken.

Yet you cannot continue to watch the attacks by the nwo once your
own nation is attacked. I somehow imagine that in the passages of power
honest men (oxymoron) must be paling at the information coming to light
in view of the events unpanning.

The empired states is reeling with so many disasters and yet continues to
make money on wars elsewhere.
I who will normally manage to find some point of comfort somewhere, at this moment
in time I find none. Not one.

And so once again I am forced to go within.
The outside has exploded. It is just for the shrapnel to start flying.
What an astonishing time to be alive.
It is completely beyond imagination.

Whilst man is pushing buttons, and manipulating what can be manipulated -
the cycles, with the innate intelligence, unfold, unveil. release what they contain
and the next cycle begins.
No agenda other than clarity.
No purpose other than a close return to singularity.
The manifest arising from the emptiness,
the manifest dissolving again.

Brahma waking up, and blinking his eye, contains earths history.
So dramatic and extreme and yet not even a day for Brahma.

playing in the coloured sky....

2011-05-27T06:47:00.000-07:00

Friday night I walk.

I walk for many hours – as I approach home the sky is the most brilliant red.

Crimson all round. The mountains reflected on the water of the dam are purple.

Two fish eagles fly above me – circling, calling, and soaring. The dams are empty and awaiting rain.

Listening, hearing, there are an awful lot of dogs barking, from all over the village.

The waning moon rises. The following morning, I am again woken early by the dogs,

I get up to let them out, the sky is again this crimson, this brilliant magenta, flashing all around, and now in the morning the mountains are black.

Red sky at night

Shepherds delight

Red sky at morn

Shepherds warn and with that arising in mind, I decided to be alert to weather and patterns as a shepherd would need to be. Wanted to understand this red sky thing.

Decided on the spur of the moment to take the teens and pre teens up the mountains.

It is fun for some, hard work for others, extremely challenging for one or two. Iona went up ahead of me and twice got into trouble but thankfully Cian had chosen to shadow her and guided her.

This inspiration of kids moved so effortlessly up these boulders and rocks, shining with aliveness at being in the wild again. Sasha asked me what I thought about the sun that day and I said it was strange because I had been thinking how very weak the sun was on that Saturday. There were thin clouds that it would normally penetrate by 10 in the morning, but the whole day it was obscured almost like the sun in Mumbai is always covered by the smog. I have never seen the sun so weak. It was almost as if the atmosphere had changed and become thicker somehow. She said the same thing. And yet I read that people in the North are saying how fierce the sun is.

At the top we sat a while, some exploring further. The strangest thing happened. The air became extremely warm and the leaves off some of the trees blew off with some force. Something shifted that was totally felt by us. Sitting up there I felt completely at the mercy of that wind and what it could bring as effortlessly as it has been doing in the past few weeks.

I felt this sudden urge to get down off the mountain. No one argued, and we descended. When we had past the tricky part we settled again and no storm came.

Yesterday I went back to the mountain, but alone this time. The sun was still fuzzy and weak.

I found a very old oak tree, extremely large, stretching to eternity both upwards and outwards. Three enormous branches had stretched themselves out just a few inches above the ground. They each twisted and turned as if they were vacillating about which way they wanted to point. To the cliff face, or to the softer mountain, To the valley or to the forest. Enormous branches long dead, just spiraling down and hanging. I get an urge to swing it, to give it movement – it swings widely.

The urge then arises to sit on the one mother branch. Sitting with my knees falling outwards, almost like a squat. Feet bare in the rich soil. Fallen, monocoloured leaves in varying stages of decomposition. The most recently fallen ones, the most newly dead are in actuality the most dead. The liveliness of decay has not yet begun. It is only when they are soft and pliable that they are consumed with life force again.

Many dead branches lean against the other branches so in this squatting, it sets the branch running adjacent to the one I was seated on, which stretched forward and banged on a very young oak, creating a sound, a drum beat. The sister branch would move simultaneously, and I could never see the link other than the trunk which was several meters away. Both these branches created sound, two drumbeats, and the the swishing of a branch against the leaves, and the few bird calls coming in and fading out. Nothing else. No other sound. No other motion. Just me and this tree and the fuzzy sun.

And then it occurred to me that this would be the perfect time to do the sun salutation. And once that faded then chanting began. None of this planned or even contemplated. Constantly surprised by what unfolded.

Gate gate

pāragate

pārasamgate bodhi svāhā

"Gone, gone,

gone beyond,

gone utterly beyond, Enlightenment hail!"……….

This tree as a fully awakened, realized being. The most powerful presence I had ever been in and along with that playful and joyous beyond measure. Sometimes chuckling for minutes and then laughing out loud. Then the thought about leaving would arise some other movement would happen. That part of the forest was alive with movement and music. I would find myself climbing up the branches, hanging from a branch, lying on a branch, lying on the thick leaves. It seemed like my whole life had brought me to that moment where I would spend several hours in the full presence of the tree. This is what it was actually for. I could never have imagined such playfulness. Such intrinsic joy. This body stretched and fell and moved and breathed and this rich untouched tree essence weaves its magic.

And from this space, and this pure joy, it was my wish that all beings could feel this lightness. that humanity can transcend the bullshit it has created as itself and return to the primal joy. The joy which is dependent upon not-hing.

In the last week the talking about the coming changes, to the actuality of the changes has happened. To me every day I feel a palpable shift. What was solid in the past is not so today, what was known yesterday is questioned today. The light is still different.

The crimson sky, the ancient tree, such wisdom and strength revealing itself shows to me the perfection of it all – even the perfection of the imperfect bits.

And that night the rains found their way to the landscape. Gentle rains that lasted longer than five minutes, yet soft enough to leave the land undisturbed, unravaged.

the irreverence of my death

2011-05-09T11:50:00.000-07:00

- funerals.
the hushed silences, the tailored undertakers, the overpriced, overharvested wooden coffins
in this country, so many live on the very basics. everything denied. for so many the only party one often has is the one at the end of your life. the one you can in no way enjoy.
you can't enjoy it not only because you are not there, and even if you were there just viewing it you would not be able to enjoy it due to the fact that it is such a waste of money for the people you love and have tried your whole life to support now spending five years funding via sickening loans on your departure. that is where you get recognised for being a human of value - when you are no longer there.

the cheapest funeral that is not a paupers, comes in at R18 000 - and the weirdest thing is you have to go via the funeral parlour. why is this - well it simply became a law when governments made it mandatory for certain companies to have the sole financial benefit of burying people. so someone dies and immediately the right channels are put in place, the police are informed, the banks are informed and your account immediately frozen - what a fucking cheek. just when your family needs the money most, your account is closed because the government needs to ensure that they get their cut on it first. your money going to the sharks and seemingly no one ever questions this. and the funeral parlours put this all in place. they are the penguins of death.

i always figured that your point of departure should follow your desire, not some catalogued, outpriced, zero optioned ceremony. growing up i aspired to an opheliasque kind of scene in which i would be sent down a river on a log raft covered with tons of petals, honeysuckle and rose (which would mean a winter death - but hey) - and then the river would twist around a corner and someone would hit an explosive (organic and harmless of course) and that would be it. just the sweet smell of burning flesh and singed blossoms.
now it has changed somewhat - just leave me out for the vultures. put me in the veldt and bugger off and let these buzzards eat me.

please god don't let anyone stand over me at any point committing my soul to anyone on any plane. please god don't let anyone say that my departure is a loss and a sadness. please let us not mention jesus or his venegal father. keep all gods out of it. just avoid the parlours, wrap me in a carpet, travel the distance required - hoist me out the boot and place me on the ground. try and ensure that if my eyes were opened that i would be happy with the view. i would definitely want to hear laughter, i would definitely want some jokes directed at this way of being. i would then want you to all bugger off and leave me on the earth as food, as nourishment , as something rapidly disappearing.

and one day, someone on earth will remember me or recall me for the last time, and then this memory will be completely extinguished.
why does this bring me such joy and peace?

i think funerals are such a total waste of money and resources. wrap someone in a white cloth and place them on a pyre, and if they choose not to be burnt, wrap them in a cloth and bury them in the earth. if there is no strong, solid box to slow the worms ability to get to you and consume you then you will quickly cease to take up space. and in however many years that would be, another body is placed in the hole - who cares - you won't be there to share your space anymore. maybe just a skull or a few bones, but who you are will not be there at all.

so enough of this bullshit. death is a business. death is something we are taught to fear.
for me death is the moment of liberation - how can i mourn or deny that.
let us live life so totally in every moment that we keep the universe entertained with the fullness of our roles we play.
let us be larger than life, let our laughter dominate the streets, let our joy fall onto others,
let us live to the full - and when that is over , then let us die with irreverence and delight.
not having lost - having only gained.

Tears as a portal for transformation

2011-04-11T10:03:00.000-07:00

To me an angel is someone whose very being, creates an impetus.

Always monumental either in the life time or in death.

It has to be this way for the desired effect to unravel.

An angel must have the capacity to enable transformation.

In the past few weeks, the continued tenacity of life magnified even further.

Ever deeper into a numbing sense of disbelief and shrugged acceptance.

On the screen it appeared that the planet was wrecked and heaving.
No sign of hope or survival.

A bleak landscape of a destroyed country, forced into the past by nature..

A targeted African country, destroyed by evil…..

Dead and dying fish and birds in their thousands.

Solar flares solaring

And with every passing second, a new revealed insanity, cruelty, injustice..

There was so much out there that negated
the beauty my soul wanted to believe was there.
And yet I keep looking outwards.
Despite the despair and uncertainty and sometimes jubilation and sometimes fear.
Jubilation when I think it could all just be over, in the blink of an eye.

So I despair deeply for life on this planet.

I don’t know why but I feel that you John Peter also felt
the claws of the gross inhumanity facing us humans.
The difference being I am willing and hoping for the entire planet to end with me.
You were far less selfish. You were willing to step out on your own.
Iona upon hearing what had happened spoke of how brave you must have been.
‘He did not know what was going to follow and yet he still did it.
That was very courageous; she said.

I can’t imagine you calling for an asteroid strike,
for an immediate end to this seeming madness.
No I was calling on the collective controller regaining power and flattening us all.
Yet you - Master of your own fate. Captain of your own destiny.
Played your own flute.

Moving into your home and connecting with your family
moved me into a situation
where I experienced nothing but an outpouring of love.
Total honesty presented herself,
there was only the aching rawness of fully felt pain.
And with that total honesty and acceptance came love.

John Peter – your marked and deliberate absence caused
such waves to break out from our hitherto contained, hardened hearts.

Whoever heard of the courage of your parting, was firstly completely numb
and then moved to the deepest sorrow and concern.

And we have all been taught from the cradle that sorrow is to be avoided at all costs.
That we should seek happiness, peace and joy,
but we must resist the counterpart vehemently.
We do this by encasing our feelings in safety zones.
And sadness is not safe, we must avoid it.
Except, here in this space, your familial home , it was accepted.
And with each expression of the sorrow felt and remembered,
waves lifted and moved outwards touching everyone in their wake.

And in that space, was the deepest most profound love.

Everyone became that.

Everyone merged into their natural state.

There was raw reality – with total acceptance.

Upon hearing the news, the mind

raced around trying to find a file that could make sense of the situation
A frantic bid to find the safety mechanism that would make it ‘alright’ – ‘not sad’.

And there was not one. There was not even the slightest hope.

There was just the closing up of the tent flap,

And calling on life to enable some kind of healing.

And many did this simultaneously..

The few people I have seen in Mcgregor since my return, have spoken to me
their stories of how this event has changed their lives.

Kathleen speaks of how her resistance to things has just melted away.
She now just says oh just does it.

And finds it effortless and pleasurable.

Annie Noorgarb speaks of how many candles have been lit
over the past week and how Mcgregor has felt this absolute surge of love.
How for her too resistance has faded.

Feeling around the thing comes to mind
is that what we have now is Awareness in plain sight.
Everyone is in a heightened state of consciousness, wherever one looks.
Aware of each potent moment.

Your blessed mother, in the deepest sorrow would still catch herself out.
She would say something like I should do…
.and immediately would stop herself and say no I want to do ………
in the deepest grief, the mind was controlled and observant,
not subject to unconscious tyranny.

It’s bizarre to say this and I really hope it does not defend anyone
still stuck on sorrow with no redemption.
But I really get that your ‘death’ was more significant than any
recent birth I have been aware of.
No one stops when a child is born. There is a light celebration -
but you don’t stop what you are doing when a friend gives birth.
A joy arises but that joy does not carry the power of transformation.
Does not carry the gift of the introspection that sorrow demands of one.
   Your departure stopped us all in our tracks.
Mid-stream.
There was no way anyone could step aside from the emotions arising.

Your dance broke my heart right open.

My internal jaded cynic fled upon seeing the light.

I am sad that so many will have a hard time adjusting to you
appearing only in memory now.

And yet I am so profoundly grateful for what it has produced.

In this world, sinking, shaking, pussing, warring -
your decision led to wave upon wave of love

and clarity of spirit.
Strong light in the darkness.

And returning home something remarkable happened.
As the plane taxied to the runway I was awaiting the clenched and sweaty fists, the tightened solar plexus, and the rapid heartbeat. The holding of breath.

That deep fear.
It was absent. Even upon turbulence and landing

fear was absent.

No resistance either.
Coming home the schism I had created with my partner was no longer there.
Choice was for love, not for distance.
Love flows effortlessly when the heart opens.
Love and water,

so alike.

Love I have discovered eliminates fear.
I don’t know why but I got a taste of how.

Seeing the grace and wisdom with which this family
has met your death has inspired.

Seeing your family meet this vast challenge, was a new hundred monkey scene.
A new way of perceiving for many.
To allow that deepest sorrow and in turn meet an inner peace.
Probably the greatest challenge given to a human.
Between the waves of loss and regret.
To respect your decision and just continue to feel the love of this being
in his eternal presence.

Many years ago Sarie lit a candle upon hearing of her father’s murder.

She had two flowers in a vase. I asked her about them
because they were two small roses that had the energy of a huge tree.
She told me that one was for her father and one for his killer.
In that moment this whole perception of punishment and revenge
versus profound acceptance struck me as my most powerful life event.

And the acceptance of those close to you and its effect
that has unfolded with your unorthodox journey
is my most profound blessing to date.
Thank you John Peter. Angel Boy.

Grief belongs to no-one.

like water it flows

and reaches the greatest depths

touching all in its path

with a clarity

a penetration

a merging

grief

weaving its way

from the realm of thinking

to the feeling of heart

where it massages, pumps , pounds, squeezes

one to the previously unimaginable depths and peace

of one’s inner being.

and the way is made possible

by the ocean of tears that free flow

with the infinite drums of sobbing

always waiting quietly in the background to escape

it is through the falling of tears

that the other shore becomes reality.

It became apparent by the last thing found of yours – a list –
that you wanted to go into the wild and survive.
You wanted to hunt and grow and live off the thriving land,
leave the hallowed city – and when you saw that to get to the land
would be more than you could do, you chose the next route –
away from this clumsy, heavy lifestyle that we are all wrapped up in.

From the beautiful falling rain and embrace of your home,
I return to the kingdom of sunlight.

Sitting in it in the garden watching the mousebirds
have what sounds like a parents teachers meeting (as I would imagine one to be),
the chickens chickening,
the light filtering through the banana leaves,
the occasional ant landing on my arm,
the wasp stinging and dragging the rain spider to her lair.

And in the midst of this – you are present.

With much gratitude.

Respect John Peter, Respect.

And as within, as without.

This healing cannot have been isolated to this pocket of people in this African land.

It is part of a growing meme – where disaster can lead to rebirth.

Where despair can carry light and hope.

And where all the bullshit is left at the top of the drive.

Balancing heaven and earth .......then again maybe not.

2011-03-23T10:30:00.000-07:00

Everything I could say about the unfolding right now have been said far more eloquently by so many others. Such profound insights being offered and imbibed . What a gift to be able to gain greater understanding of a situation from others who have a clearer perspective. A greater reasoning. And yet I happened upon these images and wanted to showcase them.
And then of course the need for expression arose.

For my birthday I was gifted with a tent.

A three man abode.

A month after this day, I was gifted with the impetus to find a new space.

I had no idea what this looked like, but I just needed the subtlest of shifts.

Ah ha – the tent.

I have a new bedroom now.

It is under the pecan nut trees by the little dam.

Faces west – and each night for the past while I have been lying awake in my tent, flap open, branches wavering, planets planetings, moon visiting.

In my old bedroom with thick walls, the night wake ups were kind of tedious.

Could not switch a light on as it would disturb my bed partner, Pieter or otherwise Iona when he was away.

So I would lie silently and try to quieten the mind.

Which is impossible in the middle of the night.

It has had enough rest it wants to play with the information racing around inside.

It wants to replay all the images it has collected during the day. The complexities of the unfolding. It wants to work it all out. It wants to understand. And it wants to understand so it can find peace.

Whereas at the end of the day, the tiredness starts shutting down non necessary applications – the mind being one of them.

The old space had also changed character and application without any conviction from me which left the slightest taste of bitterness in the mouth.

She pouts slightly.

http://www.younggalleryphoto.com/photography/dud/nb.html

Ah but now I have this space where I don’t have any desire to turn on a light and read myself back into stillness. No, now with almost walls I am content to lie there and feel the air on my face. The busy mind is also okay. Why would this make such a difference?

I have this space where I am serenaded by birds upon awaking at all times of the night.

Whenever I get up my bare feet touch the earth.

Moving closer to her.

To sleep on her surface with only a mattress between us.,

To feel the wind pushing its way towards me.

To see the lightening flashing all around .
Even the dreams are infinitely richer.

Hearing the owl, rooster, early morning trucks laden with grapes heading to market.

Every night I sort of shiver in pure delight at the prospect of heading out into the darkness to my tent.

Iona graces me with her presence. She also now wonders how come people sleep indoors on floors. We are lucky enough to sleep in a tent but have the blessing of a house with all its multiple functions.

Of course with the onset of winter this romance could well be over. Iona challenged me to travel through this winter in this new way of being. When there will be (god willing ) a blazing log fire in the kitchen/lounge are we really going to head out into the wind and rain and make our way to the tent. Elementally the wind has always been my challenge. It speaks of such power and intent in equalizing. The way she just gets everything to move. I wonder. What am I in for?

Last night, was the first autumnal dance the trees performed.

Slightly creaking, slightly jarring.

The last few moon phases have been about seeing the tenuousness of life at every turn.
And eventually for sanity or by grace, the acceptance of that fragility.
The uncertainty of it all. Even acceptance of the seeming lack of wisdom and love so prevalent.
Even with zero signs of divine intelligence apart from living creatures around us.

And for some unknown reason an increasing trust in This as it unfolds.

a weep of silence

2011-02-27T06:54:00.000-08:00

one of us ...... one of us connected by this medium...... one of us who is much loved.......found himself stepping away from the machine and it's message and slipping
into the silence.

how very brave of him or rather what a beautiful destiny.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/gypsywoman/

i find myself withdrawing from the dream increasingly.
my eyes just reaching for somewhere to rest in stillness and my ears
merging into the silence .........

so very ordinary ....... so very peaceful........ so far away from the angst that i was
caught up in of late.

even the dying relationship is encased in softness and acceptance .....
the fear based heart contractions just result in the words let go .....
not at war with anyone or anything right now - and yes that could change tomorrow.

i found this most beautiful poem that urged this posting because as usual i have nothing to say --- and yet this called for space - - - the space which you all provide.

Free and Easy

A Spontaneous Vajra Song
-By Venerable Lama Gendun Rinpoche

Happiness can not be found
through great effort and willpower,
but is already present,
in open relaxation and letting go.
Don't strain yourself,
there is nothing to do or undo.
Whatever momentarily arises
in the body-mind
has no real importance at all,
has little reality whatsoever.
Why identify with,
and become attached to it,
passing judgment upon it and ourselves?
Far better to simply
let the entire game happen on its own,
springing up and falling back like waves
without changing or manipulating anything
and notice how everything vanishes and reappears, magically,
again and again, time without end.
Only our searching for happiness
prevents us from seeing it.
It's like a vivid rainbow which you pursue
without ever catching,
or a dog chasing its own tail.
Although peace and happiness
do not exist as an actual thing or place,
it is always available
and accompanies you every instant.
Don't believe in the reality of good and bad experiences;
they are like today's ephemeral weather,
like rainbows in the sky.
Wanting to grasp the ungraspable,
you exhaust yourself in vain.
As soon as you open and relax
this tight fist of grasping,
infinite space is there -
open, inviting and comfortable.
Make use of this spaciousness,
this freedom and natural ease.
Don't search any further
looking for the great awakened elephant,
who is already resting quietly at home
in front of your own hearth.
Nothing to do or undo,
nothing to force,
nothing to want,
and nothing missing -
Emaho! Marvelous!
Everything happens by itself.

Slouching towards Ahimsa

2011-01-01T23:50:00.000-08:00

Well forgive me for not clicking into the calender creation of new possibility. For not popping the bubbly, for not buying an outfit, for not giving a rats arse about how many chimes ring out of the church clocks worldwide.
A lot of money spent in major cities on fireworks - with the message relayed being ' rest well sheeple, you see life is good, we can still do the wow factor. We can still blind you with our fireworks made in China - our technological brilliance' - ah but for the simplicity of some candles.

I went to bed at 9.30 on this evening that means absolutely nothing to me.
No astronomical significance, just a date from a man made calender does not convince me that any change is likely to come about from this.
Chinese new year - well that is based on new moons and such and well maybe that can portend some possibility for change - hey i am attempting optimism here.
With very little internal conviction. So from the year of the tiger we move to the year of the hare/rabbit. Personally that bodes well, my totem animals. Not big and noisy and fear inducing like the big striped feline energy we will soon be saying farewell to. But a more savvy, more humble, and less threatened creature's energy will be moving in.

Last night instead of trying to still the mind and focus on the breath, I allowed the mind total freedom. Let it go wherever it wanted to go - and I must say it was a lot of fun.
The first thing that came to me was to get obama onto oprah's show. And yes ladies and gentleman this show would be completely different. There would be no gifts or gimmicks, and no masturbatory adoration between guests. So this is the setting : the studio, and the entire American continent watching live. There are no comfortable arm chairs - there is a dining room table and two chairs. The two o's are seated there, each with a glass of wine in front of them. Waiters them come to the table with platters of seafood from the gulf. And because this is my mind, I of course ensure that the food on the plate is from the gulf. The recently and continually sprayed gulf. They have been told however that it is going to be pretended that it is from the area but it actually is from far away and safe. Don't ask me how I got them to believe that - this mind is rather devious I discovered. I mean I had to get it past a security detail of about 1000. They take a mouthful. Ah the chef is a genius, he can disguise faeces as food if he needs to. So they are animatedly discussing life, michelle, how wonderful 2011 is going to be and slowly mouthfuls are being digested.

Switching to the audience who are of course enthralled at being in the presence of such 'celeberitypukeness' watch with big smiles on their faces. Slowly a fine mist of spray is entering the studio. A cameraman i placed there just zooms in on it every now and then.
Rather beautiful the way the light catches the molecules. The studio audience how consist of every celebrity who believe that they actually have any value or merit based on their fame and wealth. So elton john is there, sans babe, i do have some compassion. posh beckham is there, oh hey i got rumsfield, cheney and the bush family there. oh and of course the whole oil fraternity is there. Ah i forgot to mention polanski is there as is dutroux and let us please not forget the pope and his cardinals. And the tip of the illumaniti are there too. Is there absolutely no limit to this brilliance. You are welcome to add your choice guests to this lot.

The cameras both turn back to the stage. The sound is amplified. The two o's both lose their colour and become deadly white, both start retching and gagging and puking violently. Of course i have also set up that they can't leave. That no one can come in and save them. I have also set up that the cameras keep rolling and the stations are powerless to block the transmission.
The cameras then zoom in on the skin of the audience. These huge staph lesions start to appear. Those watching can see the health of the audience being smitten immediately. And nothing can be done to stop the poisoning.
The americans are forced to watch their idol and her followers die a rather rapid death.
The seafood they ate had been marinated in corexit for over a week.
The studio audience dies rapidly as well. They unfortunately die much faster than the millions living in the gulf region will die. Theirs will be a lengthy, protracted, and painful exit.

And what the hell happens after that - what happens when the audience manage to get their chins back off the floor - well a revolution follows. A revolution unlike any that has even been seen before. And because this scenario and dream sequence is mine it is not a random, vicious killing where once again the innocents die and the darstards are enriched and enshrined. No this a revolution that hinges on to the next of evolution.
An intelligence comes into play that has never been seen before. Immediately man's potential brilliance is discovered and alternative life styles come into play. Banks are shut down, the government is disbanded, but not before the leaders that have led wars against so many nations are punished (and I am afraid I went for the violent option here). Schools are transformed into places of creative learning and reaching of higher potential , there is an instant move back into supportive communities.
People discover that they do not need to be led. They do not need a zillion and one rules.
They need one - and one rule only - Ahimsa - First do no harm. And with that one fundamental principal miraculously stamped on each heart, in a god given moment of pure love - man moves to the next level of life. For if each of us could follow that one basic, underlying value - all would be well in the world. And for those observant readers i know you will call me on my own hypocrisy. Here i am talking of non violence in between planning a death fest for those i consider irredeemable. Still many steps to take, but moving in the direction of forgiveness and non harm.

The sad thing is that I see this did not happen to the world out there, it was merely my own movie playing. Sadly I see that the drones have killed another 48 in Pakistan, that they are continuing to spray in the gulf. That there is a looming food crisis. That we are unvalued as people in this world. You just need closely enough to see this, and if you believe that the government, any one of them cares for you - well can i have some of your medication please. I really could do with some.

So looking at this landscape from so many angles, my prayer is that the inevitable comes sooner than later. And that the final act is an act of god and not man. Whether it be a blast from the sun, or a direct asteroid hit. Let it be fast, let it be swift, let it be redeeming.

And in the interim, may people learn to savour each and every moment of stillness that we are lucky enough to be touched by.
May we all embrace in the fullest, uncensored loving that can arise in our hearts.
May we all cry an apology for the way our fellow man has been allowed to starve and be killed for no other reason than greed for wealth and power.
And may we stand open to the presence of a miracle.

http://sainttigerlily.blogspot.com/2008_01_01_archive.html

The rain has still not appeared. The positive ions build up to the point of madness. I am taking the kids and guineas to the forest for a few days. Sit by a waterfall, play in the ocean, get the mind away from the machine.

And because what I have written is from the mind and thus has very little substaintiality and i really do owe you the reader more here is truth, clear, uncompromisable and indisputable.

No Experience Is Outside of Wholeness

What we are really seeking is the escape of limitation, escape from not being good enough, from something missing, from something not being right, from being inadequate. We are seeking freedom. Freedom from this sense of being limited. But our core belief IS that we are limited by our very nature. We believe that we were born or came INTO existence - a separate existence - and then that existence will end. As long as we hold onto that belief, our searches are always futile. Even spirituality is a search which is a fantasy. Isn't it? Isn't it a fantasy? We hope and pray that we may discover somehow that our existence isn't limited, that it will not end. As long as we take what we are to be limited, then how in the world can we ever FIND limitless? Our very existence denies that possibility. Our very existence is in the way. Our very existence denies ever reaching limitless. From that perspective, the search is futile. The search is unresolvable. There is no reaching limitless - so we can either completely give up, or settle on the only other alternative. That alternative is that reality is already whole, that what-you-are is already limitless. If that is so, then this present experience must already be IT. If that is so, then right here and now, you are that. And that is what the mystics through the ages have said - Tat Tvam Asi - You Are That. If that is so, then right now there must only be a false interpretation of THIS, of what IS, of this moment. It has nothing to do with any future experience - THIS is IT, only there is a conceptualization of THIS, a misinterpretation of THIS, a taking of whole reality as separate. Is that not so? In Vedanta it is called ignorance - ignorance of what you are. You believe yourself to be limited, but you are not. So the only solution is to remove that ignorance, to remove that belief. Can we arrive at another belief? Does one belief need to take the place of another? No. Only evaluate the present belief - not AS that individual, but AS the whole itself, AS the limitless reality itself. Because AS the individual, it is futile. It is always a self-reference, something for "ME" to get, to gain. A "ME" is the definition of limited existence. THAT is the belief that needs investigated. How did this "ME" come about? How is present reality being conceptualized into a "ME" vs. "WORLD"? Evaluate both sides of that equation - what is a "ME"? What is a "WORLD"? Not what appears - appearance is not the essence - appearance is not what it IS. Appearance is a manifestation of something. Appearance is always changing - in fact what appears cannot BE what IS, AS appearance. Yet it IS what IS - appearance IS reality, but taking appearance or form AS reality is to overlook the reality itself, to apply concepts, names and forms, to reality. It is to be lost in conceptualization. It is to be lost in a dream. Therefore seeking doesn't progress. It takes a step back. It isn't an individual seeking. It is somehow the whole itself, trying to figure out how it is fooling itself into the belief of separation - how it is taking itself as limited. Otherwise all reference is a self-reference. That self is the thorn which remains stuck throughout the search. Whether we are walking or rocks or satin, that thorn remains, causing the pain. We must remove the thorn, not ease the path. We can use modern "Internet Advaita" pointers, or study scriptures from a thousand years ago. It really doesn't matter. The important point is to seek, not as that individual, but as the whole itself. And what experience would the whole need, to validate itself? Can there be a certain experience OF wholeness? What specific experience is wholeness? What does wholeness feel like? Sound like? Smell like? Taste like? The answer is always available. No experience is outside of wholeness.

introducing nina to nina

2010-12-23T11:17:00.000-08:00

Nina this is written with you pictured in mind and soul.

The clouds have somehow outwitted the wind - and its relentless removal of the potentiality of itself. They are thick, billowing over the all-encompassing mountains and adding some dimension to what has been a flat blue sky, endless day landscape. Suddenly there is less visibility, everything takes on a mysterious tone, rolling, flowing, and dissolving.

In the car with me is the entire family. Very rare for us to journey out so far and exceptionally rare for us to all be together. We usually take it in turns, pairing up differently for different excursions. Like a mainly hardware trip would be for Sage and Tao and a fruit shop would be for Pieter and Iona would always do libraries and markets. But today we are all together in this car. Gliding smoothly through the well-known landscape. And yet still absolutely bowled over with the beauty that is everywhere. It never diminishes.

My eldest child, the daughter who got off the hamster wheel and found herself being violently flung off the hamster wheel and living a sustainable life on a farm wrote the other day on a page - I am so happy and so grateful. How profound is that. It touched me so deeply, deeper than any accolade or award offered to her could have done. Within herself, living in utter simplicity, she now tastes life in its fullness. Away from the carrot she follows her own wishes, which is basically for a lifestyle that encompasses children, requires simplicity and takes nothing too seriously. Oh yes and the ability to roll with the punches in fluid motions – except when you don’t of course.
Pia was one of those visitors that sat with me on the journey yesterday. Then you, Nina appeared. Looking at the parched landscape, I felt you under water, wet, sore, tired. Breathing you in, sending you love and warmth. So we were together some of the journey.
And just as we were about to go to the outskirts of the town I find myself asking my partner, Pieter, the driver to stop at the pet store. He sort of goes oh ho. But not once has he ever denied me custody of any creature. I really take my hat off to him for that. He says what with a fat smile on his face.
And I mention the stop will facilitate the liberation of guinea pigs. You buy them for R10 which is about 2 dollars. Mostly they are taken to empty children’s bedrooms where they live out their lives in small cages. Upon hearing the word liberation he steers us to the shop. You just got to know how to dress it up. Such is covert rescue work J

On the way to the store, down the oak lined lanes with Victorian homes, my heart becomes noticeable, it is moving differently somehow, or I am just more aware of it. My anticipation grows – it feels so absolutely right. There had been no prior thought about this. A spontaneous arising - and then we arrived. And once inside this shop – we know exactly where to go , which cage on the cement floor is most likely to start the founding members of a new tribe. We open the lid – and voila - by the most amazing subatomic physics, in front of us are these beings………..
We do what we need to do, with Sage holding the Jamaican and Iona holding the Nord.
Decide to add to the journey by taking a road unknown, A gravel road which would entail dropping our speed to a crawl due to gravel and loose surfaces. And yet because the sun is absent and we are not baking, we agree. A change is as good as a holiday.   Cian suddenly asks us to stop. On the side of the road are clusters of lucerne. He stops and picks some. The freshness of the plucking permeates the car.    I wish I could relay to you the perfection of light on this day. The way it magnified the might of the mountains, the way it perfectly framed a blade of grass against a pole. The way it sung the landscape into a passion play.
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Iona and Sage have fallen asleep in the back. The Jamaican and the Nord are in their box with the lucerne. Krishna Das is playing over the speakers. Something I have loved dearly but unfortunately listened to death. Tao, Cian and I playfully told Pieter we would have to kill him if he did not change the music. God, how did that make us laugh? How can we be such cheap dates? How can so little be so entertaining. I start talking to Pieter about what else I have discovered about ayahausca. Ask him if he would read the piece on it that Ravi posted. He agrees. Cian and Tao tune in. Cian says wow – for your 50^th birthday you take acid and for your 51^st you take ayahausca.   I say yes funny how it all arises. We talk about the plant and its origins, what they understand and what they want to know. There is an openness that I never ever stop valuing and savouring.

It is known from the moment I saw her that the nord would be called Nina. The kids looked at me as if to say – not very unusual. And then I tell them about you. And they remember our link and are in complete agreement. The black guy well at first glance Russian sprang to mind – but slowly a Jamaican revealed himself. But by them the meme for a soviet name had already sprung – so the patriarch of the possible tribe is Vladimir Eli.

Today the sun broke ever so slightly through the clouds, the wind was absent and I find myself sitting on the couch with Nina and Vlad. They are resting on my belly. And you know that is the beauty of winny gigs is their ability to just be still. They don’t have the usual rodent tendency to shy away or move suddenly. How you put them is how they stay.
So I place them close together, and gently stroke them. They have not been held. They are wild but not wild like in able to survive on their own, just wild as in unloved by humans.
The sun shines on them ever so gently. I feel what it must be like for them. God knows if they have ever felt this before. The birds call. The wit oojie is in the budhlia right above me, some distance away a pigeons croons, in between the fiscal shrike calls ‘kwerty, kwerty, kwerty. I don’t know when last they heard this particular music. They calm down. I stroke Nina along the back, she chubbles in delight on each downstroke. Slowly they are unfolding to something known in their genes.   A way of being. They are absorbing these subtle nuances. I introduce them to plants just picked. They are unsure; they have only eaten dried pellets their whole lives. So in 24 hours they have tasted sunshine, a lap, a gentle caress, basil, thyme, freshly picked coz lettuce.   Just after the solstice, this new tribe begins.
The year has gone by rapidly but the days have all been long. Rich, varied, with me of course always choosing the path of least effort.   A yoga teacher who has just recovered from a bypass and I sat together this afternoon in the dappled light. He asked what I was enjoying reading at the moment and I mentioned how reading seemed to have fallen away. More and more time was spent in solitude. Sitting in a chair with light shining in gently, birds outside calling, breathing happening and very little else. An embrace with silence.
He told me how lucky I was for this to happen. I said it came with a price. It came with being labelled and self-labelling as lazy, inept and not very ambitious.   It is just the love of idling that enables these labels to be taken on without much ado. No way am I going to become an active do-er – just so far away from this nature and programming.

Images that come of this past year all show a lot of attention being placed on children and creatures. Diligence, watchfulness and yet also allowing freedom despite the price come into the equation. In every article one reads one reads about the dastardly rats. The venomous vipers, the corpulent rabbits. And they attach this language to particular acts of humanity that are so not part of the rodential reality. Rodents don’t do to each other what people do. Snakes have an inherent wisdom and potential for transformation – not the blind danger that we ascribe to them. So here, in this little corner of the world, the year has been spent being hugely entertained, embraced and loved by this kingdom of rodents and honouring their beauty.

(the rats water bowl with a sprinkling of fresh herbs).

(meet nina - vlad is still too shy to take an image of)

And beloved Nina it occurred to me today, when sitting down to write this blog that a huge acknowledgment goes to you for this expression which gives me such delight and pleasure.
From my very first heart stopping posting on smoking mirrors, to gradually expressing myself on line – with you holding out a hand, a reassurance, a seeing. Thank you beloved for that – and thank you to all others who experience this…..

Peace………and goodwill to all………………

let the playfulness amidst the simplicity continue...

ayahausca calling

2010-12-09T10:18:00.000-08:00

I saw a headline earlier on – Israel fears growing Palestine support.

Perused the article briefly because truth be told I would have thought this would be an obvious. Not a reason to write an article.

With the past months worth of news, which we all have shared over the same perspective, the one thing that sits with me right now – out of all the news stories is the fire on Mount Carmel. There was an image of a huge 747 kind of number dropping water.

Having seen last year how quickly the dams emptied when the firefighting helicopters were water bombing. I can imagine the size of this one plane’s water load. And I wondered how many gazallion gallons were dropped. And where was the water picked up and sourced from. Canada and Russia were a huge support in lending resources and assistance. Canada is no surprise – Russia was – silly me once again thinking there is any difference of the psyche of governments. Apart from South America that is. Maybe. Probably not though. I also wandered how many people that had been so very helpful to israel in her crisis had responded at all to the man induced cholera facing Haiti.

Well I did not wander that – we all know no-one cares about the Gazans. No one cares about the Haitians. No one cares about the torture, the maiming, the fucking imprisonment and torture of Aafia Siddiqui scientist for two years or the countless other innocents tortured in the name of the war against terror.

Oh and I had thought only one story remained with me. They all come flooding in simultaneously. Each lasting a nano second but with each second I can feel this body’s cells dying.

An image of a small child having a body search. A young boy. His shirt is off and his father is holding him in place whilst he is searched.

I saw his young body and immediately all my kids came to me. And I am a lioness when it comes to these children. If that had been one of them being checked like that – they would probably have had to shoot me then and there.

Maybe I am just less numb but don’t these people know about the child care abuses. Don’t they know how prevalent sex attacks against children are? Have none of them that allow this ever read Aangirfan and his amazing dot to dotting of the plague. Do none of them, those being searched and those doing the searching that they have moved in the exact opposite direction of an evolving mankind. And with this huge question in mind and a rage that there are just so many fucking stupid people on this planet I head into town.

We have been sowing our own seeds at places, needing beautification and purification. We will wait a while to drive past and see the seeds popping up. But hey wait a minute – as soon as any of those places see sprouting life – they will pull out the 20 liter container of roundup and prevent any life from attempting the same foolishness for the next 20 years. But we tried – and it was fun. A lot of fun – a 2 day game.

This morning Tao and I head in again for a mission and a half. At 9 in the morning it is already 36 celsius. The exhaust rattles itself into a trance. Slowly passing the vineyards, and more vineyards and gosh almost swoon someone has planted fruit trees. Shock horror, this is news.

Crossing over the bridge where the massacre of the bluegums was held a short while ago I see something that brings tears to my eyes.

Tears of gratitude. They have replaced those trees that they killed.

And planted three times as many trees, indigenous to the region.

They used the remnants of the blue gums for tables and stools for the community to sit by the river.

Shock horror and pure delight this too is news.

Completely new to me.

I head into the post office first – the same building and people that have been handling the business parcels for the past 12 years. As a gypsy that is pretty dam amazing to have lived in this funny little place for so long. We chat whilst weighing, computing, processing this order goes, all the while chatting, laughing. A woman enters with three beautiful bunches of wild roses for the counters. Colours ablaze. More laughter, appreciation.

Then to the library. Where again I have been their largest non paying customer for the same length of time. With all the kids we have a total of 26 cards. So whenever we go there it takes a long time.

It takes an even longer time to find all the books in this rambling house before one goes. We always fail to find at least 4. Sometimes the books are kept for many more moons than they should be and yet not once have I been fined.

The relationship was not always so easy. In fact in the early days the two head honcho librarians grumpy and tight lip (kids names for them) literally drove this poor submissive creature, a lower librarian to kill herself during a lunch hour. I had been witnessing their interaction for a few months and thus her death came as no surprise.

But their rudeness eventually wore me down. And one day when gathering up the freshly stamped books (not computerized yet) – I asked them if they did not feel it would not be appropriate for them to have a suggestion box. They asked with their standard snarl why they should do this. What did I want to suggest. And I said well I would suggest you both get different jobs as neither of you seem to like this one very much.

And from that moment the whole game changed. Now there are more staff, more colour, more vibrancy, not many more books and not one dam new one – and yet being in that space I feel a sense of belonging. There is absolutely no tension anywhere in my being.

Tao has been housesitting a house higher up in the village. Strange kid that he is he has fixed things that were broken before this tenure and put together some plants together for inside, the verandah and the garden. One of the things he wants to fix for the owner is a light switch. We had to attend to three small hardwares and one light centre to find it. Found it in this ancient trading store on the outskirts of the town. Did 12 stops all in all. And with each stop the temperature went up a degree. And with the dangling exhaust still dangling we head home again, past the recreational river, the vineyards, the vineyards and the newly planted peach trees.

With the move to schooling the one unschooled - ah can you catch the whiff of irony. So Cian was very into the idea. To such an extent that he stopped ganga immediately.

And a need to digress arises. Some really ambitious pharmacists want to come into our business. Without producing capital just the promise of research and marketing. I say no way. I am quite happy being an idler and occasionally attending to the business, I don’t want anyone having rights to it or my time and energy. Pieter has 60 percent and I have 40. It is his intellectual and intuitive wisdom behind the product range. I refuse. They put pressure on him, he puts pressure on me. They want 50 percent of the business. I speak to two people in the village that were on the hamster wheel of commerce before they slumbered into McGregor.

They both said no way. Don’t give in. So then Pieter is seeing this as a way to having more income and less stress, but I can see very clearly this is not the case. Those rose coloured glasses make me sneeze as soon as I lift them into position.

So he tries various angles and eventually says oh shit well Cian won’t be able to go to the Waldorf school in Stellenbosch.

And immediately my heart somersaults because I see how much this means to him. And before I can stop myself I tell Pieter I will take responsibility for the school fees and board and lodging.

Of course the business just ticks over and provides for a simple way of life. I am constantly at home or at work and am the holding context for this seemingly vast ship, but I don’t get paid.

And here I have committed to undertaking this monthly expense.

Then the school says they are full and I beg and plead and get put on the top of the short list. Hey, Nina I am already in the fall out zone of the reality of the unschooling. And yet it can’t be any other way. Cian approaches his wealthy American grandfather who of course says he can’t help in any way. He then approaches my mother who has just been conned out of almost everything – and she says she will see what she can do….

I don’t know how someone like Terrence Mckenna escaped me for so long. My last blog I was taken up with Jed Mckenna. And in the moon phase since that was written, Terrence barged his way into consciousness with a bang. Shamanism has never tapped me on the shoulder before. The intelligence of plants had been pondered but not exploded into potentiality. And suddenly this box was finding tones for the pineal gland, articles, forums, podcasts of dmt and in particular ayahausca. Called to this experience very deeply. To such an extent that for my 51^st birthday, I am hoping to attend an ayausca ceremony.

Almost every account I have read of people who have partaken in this experience talk of how the plant tells you what you need to know. Shows you what you need to see. That whilst lsd and other hallucinogenics can show you an intensified version of this reality ayahausca shows you a different reality completely. It apparently pulls the veil off from over the eyes. The illusion is exposed for what it is. What else is there to desire on a personal level. Understanding this dream in its entirety is the only way this fragile sanity will endure.

Find myself again on a night mission – this time dressed in black. My heart feels 16 again.

I have in my hands a fat black permanent marker and a ruler.

My purpose – well there is a new estate agent in town who seems to be selling all these empty plots of land around here to wealthy speculators.

And of course there is naught that can be done about this but this urge arises in me to change the S in the For Sale and Sold signs to $.

The kids ask me where I am heading dressed like that. I tell them. They think it is great. So I set off but tonight the moon is completely absented herself (I personally think she was casting some magic in the yellow sea) – so I can barely see where these signs are. Find one only to discover that it is on corrugated cardboard and thus the line will only be as thick as the groove.

Ah foiled.

Fortunately I have all the time in the world to play as I will - the external world crumbles and I do nothing to stop it.

And at this ripe old age I find an old x-ray. I purchase some gold paint and a blade. I not only cut out a $ sign I cut out a Euro sign as well to cover the E’s. And the graffiti artist is born.

What is it that watches the unfolding?

Three times this week I have had the same dream. I am floating down a river. Gliding on water. The scene fades further out and I am floating slowly down a wide, clear river.

I am not going anywhere other than along the river – when suddenly a woman jumps into the waters with me. She is known to me and if I had to use one word to describe her it would be energy.

She glides towards me and says she just wanted to float down with me. She can’t stay long. I am not aware of the river banks or the sky I am just with the water slightly pouring over me. Rough enough to bump me but not strong enough to displace me. We stop. She has seen an owl nest hanging over the river and feels it is too low. If the waters rose there would be trouble. The nest which contained a mother owl and her babe. The nest is hanging from nothing; it just dangles downwards from empty space. . This woman reaches up out of the water and raises the unsupported nest higher. I then too stand up on the water to make it higher still. The owls just watching.

By some act of fate not based on merit or worthiness, I get to experience a simplicity, a belonging, a joyful and most importantly a peaceful existence. When I am not looking outwards that is. It came to me as I stepped into my office to escape the heat – that suddenly the world’s movie was on my screen again. And with that the anger, the frustration and the rage.

And that is perfect. Nothing needs to change.

I don’t need to accept the carnage, I don’t need to beat myself up for not being able to turn the other cheek. It is okay to look outwards and see what comes to this seeing and feel what comes to this feeling. And it’s also okay to say okay I have tried fasting, done the meditation, done the acceptance, done the I am god thing and now willing to lose the limitations of this minds construct and programming.

Breathing in, breathing out - smiling in the midst of it. Raging in the midst of it. Dancing in the midst of it. And I guess slowly dying in the midst of the living. And on that note with the fading light and my spray paint and x ray, the village beckons.

The self and coconuts......

2010-11-05T23:30:00.000-07:00

A while back at Nina's we were looping tangents in the comments section.
Coconuts arose.
I spoke of a coconut experience I had whilst in a swimming pool area in Mumbai.
Of the amazing strength and power of a coconut as it falls from skyscraper height and meets something solid.
Splash, Splatter and goo spread around.
So Osama is going to India and I am not even going to go anyway near the much commented on writings about the financial costs of this trip.
I don't think most vile leaders would have got away with this kind of
gross ostentation to keep a dying ego from dying. And sure you get leaders with egos that are so precarious that they assume massive proportions. Really no well balanced human needs to behave in this manner. To slap unearned wealth in the face of one’s people and because of this and a handful of other actions he has perfomed t require so much security because in essence it is obvious that people would want to kill him.
Someone eventually stands up to the classroom bully - or the other bullies take this one out. There is nothing that can keep you safe for ever. We spend most of our lives seeking that unattainable safety.

Ask me a mother about the perpetual quest for safety. Very early on in this role a wise man offered me some wisdom. He said never tell a child to be careful. If she is at the top of a very tall tree, she will be fully aware of what she is doing. Then you call up to her, be careful my love and suddenly she is no longer one with the tree, she is down on the ground with you and that warning - instead of protecting you actually harm. It is being fully present in the moment that allows extreme sport. Presence is your protection.
It made perfect sense to me and I really did try hard not to warn - but there is a fear of injury and when I saw components for potato launches I was okay but when I saw components for perhaps more damaging pyrotechnics I put out warnings - accompanied by threats. Different to being on top of a tree granted, but still a warning. And then there are the warning for the emergence of skills such as the functional origanmi below - which I warn against and yet those declarations are shaded by a subtle hidden appreciation of the art form.

It seems that it is a natural part of parenting to want to keep a child safe. Actually to kep everything safe. Living in a small village where everyone is known and children walk freely, one does not give much thought to stranger abduction etc. Iona and I go for a walk and she is so free and open with her world. And I want it to remain this way forever but I also don't want a coconut to fall and land on our heads. Having older brothers she is not naive. She has heard the message not to go near a car, even with a woman driving (at first she could not understand that) and otherwise I encourage her to take a dog wherever she goes and I put light around. Kind of like putting light around light.

All the stories you hear of death are so very alarming. 8 year old girl chokes to death on a butterfly, boy gets swallowed by an escalator. There are few ways to be born but my god there are an infinitely expanding amount of ways to die. Inhalation of volcanic ash, corexit, aspartamene, honour killings - oh god for evry unusual death each one of us can recount recalling, another 5 are happening whilst we recount.

And likewise injuries. When did the world become such a dangerous place. How on earth do we reach safety? Emotional and physical. Is it possible?

Obama and his handlers have thought of every conceivable danger of this trip.
Bullshit, but they are spending an awful lot of time telling us how much is being done to ensure this man's safety. Why on earth would they do that? He is a fucking disaster to us and everyone can see that. But to others he might be regarded as a total success. One man’s shrimp and all that. This is all about leading him to the slaughter.
The elaborate safety declarations and 'intellectual exercise’ surrounding this trip is to reassure an increasingly insecure, paranoid president on the brink of an egoic meltdown that he is safe.
But of course he knows what 'his' handlers are about. He, himself knows what an assassination of a US president by a Pakistini national could achieve. It seems very tacky and tardy and visibly obvious but hey what about the ink cartridges on the non existent UPS flight. And he has to play along with it. Lose or lose.
Once the winner - now the extreme experiencer of losing. What flashed through his mind when he received the piece prize - how could he possibly believe it? How unwired would your brain need to be to actually play this game for so long.
So many things could go wrong on this trip - but thankfully there is no urge for me to warn him, to protect him - let those coconuts fall. Time to meet Kali…… destroy this dream. This particularly repugnant dream.

The Taj Mahal hotel in Colaba - Mumbai.
The time I spent in this city was definitely the most alive time in my life. The colour, the sound, the radiance, the visuals, the poignancy and the absolute Life was beyond words.

I recall gong one day to elephant islands across the bay of Mumbai to see what lay there.
It is a huge bay and very industrialized. Oil refineries on the other side.
The entire time I was there I never saw the sun, so deeply buried beneath the smog.
Who cares - it was magnificent.
So on a perfect day I made my way to the harbor and climbed on a ferry.
Very much like in Africa, no lifejackets, no radio, no nothing.
About 20 minutes into the journey, the engine cut out.
So the captain climbed to the engine and started hammering. The hammer rules in India. He tapped for a good half an hour or so. Nothing. Tapped some more. Nothing. I am sitting on an orange plastic chair watching those on the ferry with me.
A beautiful Indian woman is feeding her baby coyly, her husband shines on. A friend I am with looks at her with a complete appreciation of her beauty. She responds with a wider smile.
Looking at some of the bigger boats around us and marveling at this thing called life.
Ah then the transformative tap was tapped and the engine sort of gulped into life.
And we were moving.. I was one with my world.

Arriving at the island I moved up the stairs past the hawkers and the monkeys and the stalls and the rubbish. I imagined that when the British were there this would have been rather beautifully kept- parasols and coverings and cleanliness. Despite anything else about those times, things were upheld and beautified. The carvings here were degrading and uncared for. And in that moment that judgment arose, mind launched out, lashing against it all. Quick it says, get the next ferry out. Otherwise you will be forced to take the last one out which was the one you came in on. The one that broke down. So the second time here was really just a mind fuck and i found myself racing down the stairs, past the hawkers and monkeys and onto the second last ferry of the day.

Found a seat, Mind smugly satisfied to have me in its power once again. Found a seat. Looked around. Immediate tally - 2 Hollanders, 12 Indian college students as a group, the 'captain' and myself. We chugged out. And then the light manifested in a way that took my breath away. Would not even be able to describe it apart from pure magic. A quality I have not witnessed again. Enchanted and pleased with myself I relaxed into the voyage. And then suddenly day became night and a solid plane of water shot from the sky. The calm waters became roller coaster tracks.
We became a plaything of the elements. No power whatsoever. Having long forgotten prayer, it became a matter of enduring. Nothing else one can do. Holding onto a pole, the captain trying to nudge up to a tanker for shelter, The Dutch guys advising against this. Within seconds of the downpour it went form warm to cold. Shivering, watching it all unfold. Mind saying how profound it was that on my second last day in this city I meet death this way.
A seeming eternity later, we arrive at the Gateway. Everyone alighting from that ferry was experiencing pure euphoria, absolute euphoria. The sheer delight of continuation - that the dream still unfolded. Monsoon over walking through the streets, totally alive despite the monsoon, things covered, life continuing, eyes feasting at life in this city. A few of the college students approach me and ask if we should go for coffee. We are all totally drenched. A madness occurs that we should as this motley mob go for tea at the Tag Mahan hotel.
The beauty of madness being so few question it. So we walk past the doormen who look perplexed but don't stop us. Thought the foyer, where we are a world apart from the opulence before us. With boldness strengthening with each step we weave our way up the grand staircase to the tea lounge.
Frugally order coffee for all of us. And then the waiters which became the memory of this space for me informed us that there were cakes that were going to be turned the next day. Fresh one's were coming in and would we like some. Would we like some - hey i think so. And the cakes came out - sheer beauty, artistry , and my tongue could not pick up any apparent sell by dates.
Survived a storm and then fed riches despite appearance.
A powerful metaphor.

My experience of that space of course is going to be so different to Obama and his minions.
Will he even notice the man serving tea, the receptionist demurely lowering her eyes in humility?
Will he even look out his window and see how the vast majority of humans on this planet live.
Will he even question his reign?
Will he even wonder what he is doing there? Will he begin to ask beyond his name and position who is he?
Will he question anything at all?

For me personally on this shore right now the voyage seems to have hit bumpy waters.
On an internal level something within just says enough – I have had enough – despite searching I have still not found what I am looking for. That essential feeling finds me looking to the mountains and saying come su let us go for a long, long walk into the mountain kingdom and just lie down a while. Just lie down.

Some thing came into the garden one night whilst I was walking the dogs and killed a lot of the tribe - 4 guineas ripped open and dismembered. Chickens mauled. One rabbit and four hens survived. Looked like a ritualistic murder.
Blood on the tracks. The end of the tribe....

Schooling appears to be going ahead for the two eldest - their choice. In a university town called Stellenbosh. Waldorf school. Practical learning but an ultiamte goal of A levels. Sounds amazing - but then schools always have a gift wrap. I do the motions. Fill in the forms. Meet the head teacher who happens to be a friend. Who happens to be a friend who knows the village and knows about Cian's bust. The deal is that Cian is welcome but needs to do a drug test on call.
Makes sense from the schools point of view I can see that. This kid has never had a needle in his body - and now they will be sticking one into his veins to see if he is 'clean or not'.
He is okay with it. I think it is harsh. He is up a tree trying for something else and I am not going to distract him with my own fears and failings and sense of justice. I pile up some soft mulch should he fall and put the light around him. It really is all I can do.

So the dream is changing direction but fortunately I get to stay in this space for a while with the two younger one's and the remaining animals.
We will remain in this space where the greatest excitement is seeing an owl on a night walk. Where the greatest joy is some home made lemon ice cream.
For as long as god wills, the simplicity of this life will remain. And for that I am most grateful. Or am I just deeply stuck in a comfort zone that sometimes appears to hold no comfort?

Outside the rain falls.
I am avoiding kitchen duty and thus find myself transcribing a download that moved me deeply for those who could not watch it.

NUKE YOUR LIFE
(In the background is 'Allelujah' by Leonard Cohen performed by Gary Buckley.
The images are what make it for me but perhaps the words can resonate.

So what is the truth of me?
Who am I? That is the question.
If you want to know - then find out. Think as long and hard as you possibly can.
Dare to be a fool.
Unchain yourself from respectability.
Take an oath - declare war - burn it all - burn, burn everything - this is the answer
to the question you are asking.
That is what all this awakening stuff is about.
That is what real zen is about.
Nuke your life.
What gets destroyed is never yours in the first place.

You have to start by bringing yourself into focus - nothing can happen before that and no-one can do it for you.
The fact is that no matter how you cut it - no matter what you believe all that you have is this moment of being sandwiched between 2 entities of non being.
All you have is this moment of dream state being which can slam shut at any moment. The question is what are you going to do with it?

Once you come to deeply appreciate that question your life goes through a cascade melt down. Everything in your life gets dropped - except your life itself. That is when you get to see what it means to be asleep and that virtually everyone is. That is when you begin to see what it means when it is said that people are all children and insane children at that.
That is when you begin to see that all emotions are energetic attachments and that they all spring from fear.

No one is saying this stuff is easy. Rational progress is never easy - like a slow dying. But fast or slow that is what it is - a dying.
But what does all that amount to? What do you get from all that suffering - disillusion, salvation, liberation, nirvana?
No it just goes back to square one to get you back to the point where you went verbal instead of horizontal, where you burrowed in at the age of 10 or 12. It gets you out of the whole you spent your whole life digging yourself into so that you can finally start your life. We are not even talking about taking a spiritual journey at this point, we’re talking about undoing the unspiritual journey.

We spend out lives burrowing down into our graves - like that is a clever place to hide from death. This is about climbing out of our graves, and living, discovering who we are and what we are a part of. And you can't do that from the bottom of a hole.

It's there to be known, to be seen. There is no mystery. Nothing is hidden, only unseen. But understanding consensual reality in a dream state is unbelievable.
Life is but a dream.
Reality has no basis in reality.
With eyes closed you find it dissatisfying and with eyes open I find it magical, absurd, delightful, intereractive, challenging, mysterious, playful and brief.

You want answers but there are no answers - just beliefs.
And if you want to awaken then you must know that beliefs are not your friends.
They only hold you back. Demanding answers and explanations is an egoic stall tactic.
We don't hear it but there is a clock that is ticking and you don't know how many ticks you have left.
Listen for it the game is over whether you are playing or not.
Jed Mckenna tribute by Ahab's pipe. http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=jed+mckenna&aq=f

So much food has been planted that beds are in short supply.
Planting in pots - wherever the sun reaches.

On that note a patch of sky clears. Time to move outwards.
Thank you for stopping by.

a vanishing

2010-10-30T06:17:00.000-07:00

....http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1bfwvK9NVYk

checking in.....

2010-10-22T06:47:00.000-07:00

the worship of light continues.....

less and less to convey

dreams within dreams
dead owls in both the waking and the sleeping states

iona finds this cat outside the police station
in their garden
it is trying to catch a fish
she brings her home
we call her bones
put her on a table with some water
she rests her head on the bowl -
drinks lightly
manage to feed her a tiny bit
when the sun goes down or should i say when the earth tuns and hides from the sun -
she is handed to me

wrapped in a towel, i hold her on my lap
she puts her paws in a prayer position
looks at me
and then vacates that body........
that life that animated that body disappeared in a second
there could be no doubt that death had occurred
- the light had dissipated

this blessed preparation for the inevitability of death.

seedlings planted
mulch cunningly procured
river stones harvested from dry riverbed
and rain clouds holding a promise

kids stretching vigorously
me limbering up, seeking greater flexibility
watching them grab onto to life as teens
immortal, fearless, and more alive than they will ever be again....
and 'me as mother' meeting fear again and again
only to land up laughing.....
at the absurdity of anything not being absolutely perfect
as it is.....
without the stories
without the bringing forward
without the resistance

just this arising - just this that i am....
the witnessing

witnessing the raising of the first chilean miners ascent.

playing at being creative....

a musical muse appears

and on a final note using this space to find a friend work.
meet jaqs - mcgregor volleyball team or sacred order of the round orb.
he has done 1 year apprentice blacksmithing.
it is his dream to continue this craft and yet there is no one for him to apprentice to here in this country that we could find.
he has sponsorship and would be able to fund himself for a flight and basic accommodation for a year in order to learn more.

he is a joy, inspired and i 'fear' if he remains here dormant, he is going to lose his vitality. can you think of anyone?

A mirage contains no water, just as a 'seeker' contains no substance.

Can you hear silence? Can you touch nothing-ness?
Can you grasp consciousness? Can you see yourself?
Can you stop thinking? Can you stop seeing? Can you stop hearing?
Can you be something that you are not? Can you become something other than
what you are? Can you do anything at all? Can you, as a believed in separate 'thing' ever find wholeness?

Awareness is the activity of knowing.

http://seeing-knowing.com/books-cd/

such clarity

Ratatattat

2010-09-21T04:55:00.000-07:00

Big Pharma wins out in the EU. Herbs and herbalists are to become extinct.
I rest my case. This little news flash was the one that made me finally throw my arms in the air, scream a loud scream and say fuck this screening of reality, a new channel is needed. There is only so much ongoing stupidity one can witness and this witness bows out of her role with not even a backward glance. Looking forward now, where is that asteroid? Surely she has heard my invitation, with compassion she must be zooming in.
Anih – elation has a certain appeal.

And some of you are aware that authority and I had our hands held together for a while. A little too tightly for my liking. None of that tenderness that I equate with getting intimate. Well the outcome of that is still in the offing, despite me pointing out to the chief that they searched a minor without a guardian present which is itself a big no-no.
Someone suggested going to legal wise that they would love to take this on. But then I would just be holding hands with lawyers. Umm think I will skip that one out. So we are still hanging and a good friend of mine I discovered yesterday has been spreading small town stories that Cian was found with Meth on him. Like it is not perversely satisfying enough that he was bus – but then to make it awful and damaging – I just don’t get that..
I am afraid I cut his balls off verbally – I don’t know if he will ever recover – and like all the other drowning wallowers in excrement around me – I don’t care. I just don’t care.

So then with the case for possession somewhere in the sidelines, I am asked by Tao and Cian if I will take them to Earth Dance on the weekend. They need a break from the smallness of our village and they have never partied and please will I…….. and for a moment or two a discussion between the ‘mature’ susan and well su as you know her takes place and guess who won?
So on Friday five of us set off, Alice through the looking glass again.
Now picture a scene of a traffic jam at the entrance to a huge camping site and bear in mind that I don’t know the last time I sat in traffic. Alien to me. Like you have to crawl forward really slowly, constantly focusing on what is front of you instead of the scenery around. Already the energy was pumping.

Set up tents about 100 meters apart. Within an hour there were umpteen tents separating us. Less and less personal space. Fortunately we were close to the banks of the river (well fortunate apart from the coldness) and so there was some space beyond which was like an oxygen mask to me. And on the other side was the peace tent – more on that later. And still the crowds came in. People with serious intention to get wasted to dismiss their limited selves and merge with the greater. I unfolded my very fucked up camping chair and proceed to feed my inner voyeur – oh what beauty suddenly I have thousands of people to watch. And watch I did with awe and wonder at the diversity and beauty that prevailed. And mostly there were extremely well prepared campers. My mouth hung open at how organized people could be. Wow. How easily we as humans make the space we sleep a home, how quickly we enmesh ourselves in the environ.

The peace tent or the hippie tent was the drink/drug/smoke free section which was the chill place and also the space where kids hung out. There was always a fire going and the best music was played there. And yet when the sun went down, or when the earth spun into darkness the rap stage started and I fell into hell. I had just signed a petition to legalize marijuana when the guy in charge of it handed over some Blueberry in a really cute tiny zip seal bag. Only used to homegrown I was intriqued to say the least. Hot footed it back to the tent, rolled up and three hits later found myself in hell. A friend of mine calls that stuff wheelchair weed and it is a pretty apt expression. It is 8 in the evening – any dormant paranoia is rising to the surface and my body and soul are being met with sound so vile and magnified that I fear psychosis. The brain is frantically trying to place it somewhere in some file, but it is unknown. I lie down and the earth is pushing up this sound into the body. And there is nothing I can do but lie there and breathe and just be with it. The temperature drops to 4 degrees and I am shivering despite having three layers of clothing on. And still the mother fucking goes on with cheering to accompany it.

For some strange reason I had taken my ipod with me. David Carse was playing. I listened to his description of falling asleep. He spoke to me through the billowing energies that we are never present to falling asleep. We become absent the moment we fall asleep, so we can only reappear from sleep but we can’t experience falling into it. He goes on further to say how death works the same way. The path to death can be uncomfortable, painful, profound, anything and yet death itself can never be experienced because that which would experience it is no longer there.
And then by some grace the peace tent starts drumming. I can hear 8 drums, such a rushing sound, how they follow each other, percussion rain. I strain to let that sound dominate. A waterfall of vibration.
As soon as it is heard, this center reappears. There is an acceptance, I can cope with it.
And on and off through the night my consciousness meets both sounds, the power of one and the healing of the other.

And as one does in such confined situations one gets to meet one’s neighbour. Mine was a father who had bought his daughter and her two friends .along. We shared a cup of coffee and said never again. The kids collectively would visit and then disappear.
Ever changing by the experience unfolding.

And then I walked around and got more into it. Everyone seemingly in ecstasy, aliveness prevailing.
It was quite interesting to see this mind working. It really is like a puppy without a leash for the first time in a park. First my mouth hung open at how organized it was and then it clamped shut when I saw the booze tent. Sure do drugs or do booze, but both together in a group size left a certain tension. Only created in this mind of course.
Then I wandered past stalls with some pretty impressive clothing, and pipes and all sorts. And there was this wonder of creativity and then mind said oh but this is just more fucking stuff. Can we not go away for three days and not purchase anything. Do you really need a t shirt – no matter how incandescent. And when I saw a van with an ATM in it – I thought oh of course - money, money, money. Now the purpose of this festival was peace and it was held in several places worldwide and at a certain time, there would be a link and a prayer for peace. Sweet idea. Spend spend and god will send seemed to be the motto. Bouncing concepts between the neurons, none of it with any validity, hey but puppies need to run and hence opinions are held.

Went back to the tent and borrowed my neighbours book on poetry and from those words dancing on the page I found myself transported – to a place of such feeling and realness, that I spent most of the day by the river, under a tree, whilst the music blared out, now with the second sound stage on. Pure trance. And because it was day and the lasers were not on, the Blue gum trees by their thousands added their own shimmering light to the festival. Powered by the sun, they glistened all day.

Now I realize that if I had to do it again, first choice would be to do what everyone else did straight away and head for the mind altering chemicals. But for some reason I was to be alienably straight amongst abandon. Tried to dance, but there was nothing this body could pick up on, the watcher was too involved. And still my eyes feasted on the happenings, on the glorious unfolding of a whole lot of people having a blast.

The link for peace was at one in the morning, which of course found me slumbering already. A nice gesture but not much validity. Someone told me the next morning that the peace tent had processed to the main stage where the music was turned off for the prayer and immediately the revelers shouted fuck off hippies we don’t want peace we want drugs. I guess it sums up things as they stand. Just get us high, give us stuff, let us forget ourselves and we don’t give a fuck about anything deeper or more human than that.
and…but those that had valiantly tried to carry their message to the masses in the light of morning looked crestfallen beyond belief.
So on the final day I spent my time in the peace tent, being part of what they were trying to create. Good music, good chai, great fires. Kids kidding, laughing, hula hoping.
And still somewhere there was an aspect of su cruising the dance floors waiting for someone to start playing music.

So what did I gain most from the stepping out – well awestruck kids who could not thank me enough, my inner wild woman getting a chance to be unwashed and wild and the following poem which clasped my heart in resonance….

LETTER FROM A CONTRACT WORKER

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
a letter that would tell
of this desire
to see you
of this fear
of losing you
of this more than benevolence that i feel
of this indefinable ill that pursues me
of this yearning to which i live in total surrender

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
a letter of intimate secrets
a letter of memories of you
of you
of your lips as red as henna
of your hair as black as mud
of your eyes as sweet as honey
of your breasts as hard as wild orange
of your lynx* gait
and of your caresses
such that i can find no better here
I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
that would recall the days in our haunts
our nights lost in the long grass
that would recall the shade falling on us from the plum
trees
the moon filtering the endless palm trees
that would recall the madness
of our passion
and the bitterness
of our separation...

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
that you would read without sighing
that you would hide from papa Bombo
that you would withhold from mama Kieza
that you would reread without the coldness
of forgetting
a letter which in all Kilombo
no other would stand comparison...

I wanted to write you a letter
my love,
a letter that would be brought to you by the passing wind
a letter that the cashews and coffee trees
the hyenas and buffaloes
the alligators and grayling*
could understand
so that if the wind should lose it on the way
the beasts and plants
with pity of our sharp suffering
from song to song
lament to lament
gabble to gabble
would bring you pure and hot
the burning words
the sorrowful words of the letter i wanted to write you my love...

I wanted to write you a letter...

but oh my love, I cannot understand
why it is, why it is, why it is, my dear
that you cannot read
and I - oh the hopelessness! -cannot write!

António Jacinto an Angolan poet who was imprisoned for 20 years as a political prisoner. Upon his release he was appointed Minister of Culture and Education.

Footnote:
It seems almost daily that the household is embracing another creature.
Misty and Coz became proud parents to 3 youngsters - buddha, gastro and ripielo.
Before one could say quick separate them Misty was pregnant again and gave birth to 8. So she is on the chastity run with her young one's, and the two adult males have taken to parenting the teens and babes.

Watching these rats brings to light that they can access shangri la - there is harmony, playfulness, intelligence constantly on display with these creatures. Feel so bound to care for them and nourish them. Mostly others don't get this.

And with the births come the deaths. Only one of Abagail's babes survived. Jah. They all had a kind of seizure which lasted several hours and then they died. Quite uncanny how each in turn was landed in my hands to hold them in their death throes. It is not an easy thing to have a living being in the palm of your hand convulsing to death. With each of them I just tucked them into my bra. Skin on fur, heart to heart. Hummed and hummed.

Henny Penny in her brilliance laid her eggs in a large drum. She sat diligently for the 21 days and then her young hatched. Now how to get them out the drum so they can stroll around. That became a required routine - to place them in the drum at night and out into the garden in the morning.

And so life carries on. Have elected to continue sleeping in my tent. Iona and I have taken to the absence of thick solid walls. In the evening you will find us sitting outside in the garden around a fire. We are entertained by everything and then we crawl into this dome and drift off in and out with Rasta the rooster reassuring us of his presence from two in the morning onwards.

The unfolding dream continues.......

Can we....

2010-09-15T06:58:00.000-07:00

amidst vibrancy and alertness
we are called to the dance
of these precarious times
surrounded by the most heinous crimes

can we embrace this moment

just as it is......

A day, a death, wholeness.

2010-09-03T00:12:00.000-07:00

This morning she awoke to find that silliness had become her betrothed during the night. A guffaw escaped noisily and unexpectedly before her eyes had even opened. And as the rest of the household awoke, they gathered in the garden, between the blossoms and buds. Right now Jasmine embraces with her scent at every turn. And beginning to mix in with her blend, wisteria starts to unfold, still tentative, still very subtle. and wisteria , her buds turning from gray to purple as they open, as they promise to shower us with her aromatic magnificence. With buddleia promising her magnificence any minute.

The universal perfumer sure got it all right in spring. Aided and abetted by the power of that dormant root energy as it springs into phenomenon above ground.
A sheer unabandoned, uncensored sensory experience. And with this in the air – how could silliness not be present.
She thrives in beauty and safety.

Trees were planted, weeds cleared away where absolutely necessary, beds watered, beds prepared, all these people involved in their own space, with the sun and the smells shining on.
One of the group was digging an eel pond. A smoker was simultaneously being designed. Around the pond will be trellises of raspberry. The being involved in this project thought it could double up as a personal splash pool in the hot summer months. They were all treated to his future projection of how he and his boa would languish in the pool and he would snap of raspberries and Rumple well maybe he could snack on baby eels.

And so the day unfolded, forays into the garden where engagement would happen, laughter in response to a comment and then back to do some work in the office, where out of habit she was pulled away from the joy onto a canvas that held no beauty, just a disgust. One site went to was Aangirfan – she loved going there, reading the amazing research. Opening the tab on an article she was reading and came upon a picture that slapped her so hard she found her breath had stopped.

The image was unexpected. It was of a man being tortured. And this woman her whole life had such an abhorrence of violence and torture and avoided any images of it. Her mind could conjure up enough. And there in front of her for a split second before she looked away was a scene that she knew exactly what it was like to have happen to one. A large pool of blood, his nakedness, his torturers, his scream. But even once she looked away the image remained.

A huge wave was threatening her peace and equanimity. Immediately a voice inside said “it’s only a thought”, and immediately things arose such as: if I this suffering is not experienced then the tortured will be betrayed. If a total wave of revulsion and contraction does not arise and is not nurtured, then his suffering will not be alleviated. – it would be devalued by not paying attention to it. An accident with that much pain and suffering could be integrated but that someone can deliberately inflict that brutality upon another human was just inconceivable to her.

And still her breathing was halted. Her stomach knotted.
And another question arose which was asking her whether all the pain she had felt in her life for those in pain had helped in any way. A critical point – is she going to imagine and feel and thus suffer further or was she somehow going to distract her mind from the bone of pain and suffering.

A call of glee calls her from the garden. Her name is repeatedly called with continued animation- she follows the calls. Her eyes are gifted with the sight of three new born guinea pigs. Again a gathering happens and this new life is savored by all. In that moment there was joy.

And yet entering her office again the image and its programming on her again exerted herself again an inner voice said just pause thought. And upon thought ceasing, the tortured man too disappeared, until thought resumed and he kept appearing in between the never ending stream of thinking.

Lunch was made by one of the members of the household. Again a gathering outside whilst it was eaten. Some freshly picked coriander chopped and sprinkled on top, added to the sensory festival of the day.
Dishes washed, the new transplants watered, the sun birds spectacularly feasting on the wilde dagga that had colonized the garden. The hoopoes preening before their ladies. Everywhere so much happening. Such a simple magnificence.

The day ends and she is skyping a friend. Someone comes in and smilingly informs her that there is zero electricity left on the meter. Well as close to zero as you can actually get. And the messenger then smilingly leaves.

Aha – no cash. So she cycles down to the Chinese store at the bottom of the village but the cash machine is down. Returning home she informs the group that there will be no electricity till the next day. A night without power. Everyone groans and resists and protests. Until the same child of the eel and raspberry pond informs her that his snake has just eaten and he needs the heating pad on.

Oh dear a valid argument. So a plan needs to be made. Her car has no petrol so she will have to hitch into town. She has done this many times before, but never at this time of day. Walks briskly down the road towards the end of the village where all the hikers stand. But a mere block from her house she hears a car coming behind her and sticks out her thumb and voila she has a lift to town.

And the driver is a nursing sister she met once whilst participating in a hospice bereavement workshop thing. She often tried to donate blood, but was always told that she needed it more than the blood bank. And once when she had tried to sign up for Life Line she was rousted out before the introductory course. Quite perplexed why she must surely be one of the few volunteers to be denied membership to this human flotilla she asked them why and was told that basically it was a service where one listened and as people expressed themselves to the listener then they would come to their own decisions. Whereas they had immediately ‘diagnosed’ her as one who would say upon hearing about continued abuse to leave the bastard, just leave, now. She was most impressed by their astuteness in reading her character.

So many years later, last year to be exact somehow this bereavement course tumbles at her feet. She finds herself learning the basics of grief and how to handle it.. And at the end of it when she was asked if they could utlise her services and the first case was in her village, she declined. For like the tortured man who haunted her earlier she knew her pathology well enough to know she would never shed the grief of others off – her inner watcher warned her off, and she declined.

So here we suddenly find her in the car with the hospice sister. A broad Afrikaans woman, compassionate, capable, delightful and remarkable in her ability to affect a life. Offering her relief from pain and other medical processes. She shines, she radiates.

They drive past the rows and rows of blossoms, everything green from the recent brief rain. The dusk hanging on for a seeming eternity. They talk around so many things that have happened of late, solar flares, the majesty of Jupiter, the delight of the rain after a year of dryness……. and then the healer's phone rings and her eyes suddenly become concern.

The nurse had asked her to accompany her on a call that she feared making herself. She needed an ally and whilst the traveler thought she was hitching to purchase electricity she was actually hitching to help on someone’s final port of call. As soon as they entered the house there was a wailing and flailing and screaming. An ancient woman came sobbing around the corner, her face a mirror of unprepared grief. Her withered hands stretched out before her as if to place them around a neck.
Karien grabs her and holds her. She is solid like a trunk and takes on this anguish without blinking. She holds and holds.

The hitcher watches, sees the grief of a 72 year old woman upon the death of her 97 year old mother, who had died slowly of cancer. And yet still was not prepared to be without her mom. The hitcher went to the kitchen, washed up a bit, put on the kettle, made tea, fed the cats. Venturing into the courtyard she saw some wilting plants, found a can, watered them. Still the dance of grief continued. The voyeur her eyes saw the periphery of the garden and it was bone dry.
Hosepipe found, attachments secured, the soft spray landing on the dried out soil. The sweet smell of moisture bouncing out immediately.
And in the parlour the hugging embrace of pain being met with love continued.

An eternity later, the ancient woman was asleep.
It was now deep into the darkness.
And the tough love carer refused to let the hitcher hitch home now.
And so together they wove their way back to the sleepy village, with a million
stars above them.

And as she fell into bed the tortured man was with her - he was whole.

Your real nature of pure awareness is not an object. In truth, it is pure being, natural non-conceptual awareness, and deep tranquility or peace. Suffering is created in thoughts and generated by fixation on ideas and concepts in the mind, particularly about being a limited, separate "I". The pure awareness of your natural state has no "I" at all. It is not an "I", because the concept "I" is only a thought. You are not that (or any other) thought. So, how can you be an "I"? Therefore, the suffering is only an appearance. It comes and goes as a product of thought. But awareness is constant and ever free of the mind and its states. Hence, it has no suffering or limitation whatsoever.
http://www.naturalstate.us/pointers.html

Hey fuck, what is up .....

2010-08-13T04:18:00.000-07:00

I am often amazed when people visit these pages.
For i am of a simple mind - and not necessarily in the positive state.
It is how come i can dismiss chess as a game with no real purpose.
I never could get more than two moves ahead. Only capable of seeing a slight
variation than what is on the board in front of me. Hence my lack of landscaping skills, i plant by urge rather than design and it is not always 'successful'.
Don't show me plans for a building - just can't see it till it's there.
So simple in that i am incapable of seeing a pattern slip into another pattern and follow its route there.

Hence I have found the internet to be my educator on a game.
Okay so that is how that works and how that looks.
And my powers of observation have strengthened in accord with my increase in powers of cynicism and jadedness.

And in this chess game, it was all harmonious. We discussed the horrors facing us and who was behind them. With rage and empathy prevailing. And we painted images of two separate forces , the one always much stronger than the other'. And i could never make the leaps of understanding that others could, i just sort of took an overview. Made a collage of other people's insights, until i learnt to basically, based on the 'knowledge', accrued enough understanding to come to my own conclusion before any one else confirming it.

Does the killer wake up one morning and say whew I think I am going to kill someone.
Or was it a lifetime of programming. Genetic, social, familial, so many factors contributing to the day that the killing happens.
Who or what was behind, orchestrating with the most perfect timing each single event that led to the unfolding of a particular happening.
Albert Einstein was such....... a very specific tool was needed to bring through what he brought to our understanding.
Did he choose his brilliance, or did he just find it was available to him.

Who is this programmer that with such precision brought this whole thing to play.
Starting off with the perfect materials needed to create planets, and life forms, and mountains and ocean.
That same force that is behind the beating of our hearts and the spinning of the planets.
How can there be two opposing forces?

I am questioning this very deeply because this polarity is a disease that I want to distance myself from.
Where I have so much around me and yet mostly my mind just routinely wonders into satisfactions with what I 'don't have'. And upon noticing this it becomes more and more apparent that this is deep conditioning and yet on the same hand that which is conditioned is witnessing the presence of what is. We have always seen it- but we just never rest on it we always skip off into contraction.

I had read an article whereby someone commented on the fact that all suffering is is the gap between what you have and what you want to have.

I find it hard to reconcile that 2 million humans from Pakistan are homeless. Two million. I can't find any images of suffering faces like one did during the Haiti quakes and the su-nami from a few years back. Just distant shots of these communities suddenly vanished and under water. Two million lives are suddenly hanging over a precipice. How can that not be suffering?

And the blog world is remarkably silent about this flooding - instead people are trying to out user names with accusations.
Who is who -
I guess the one's who speak from the heart.

The one's who are not squalling through the airwaves with hatred and loathing in their hearts, Morbid preachers of hatred through righteousness.

So because my chess board, the blog world became a place of too many inequities, I could live with that...... but when it became slanging and jousting without us having the pleasure of knowing who is actually jousting with who.

I think I am going to opt out of this world and spend more time on the things right in front of me.
An exercise that happened for a day or two was to watch the body very carefully for any contraction.
To become super aware of the energy flow.
The weather was cold, the internet hostile so the kids and i sat around the fire knitting and making bread.
And suddenly a contraction would be noted and then attention would go to the thought that preceded the contraction.
And upon seeing that thought it just dissipates and suddenly there is the magic of being with these people, for the peace, for the harmony, for the warmth, for the home.

I recall losing our house in the fire. It was the loss of a lifestyle but only of sentimentality. The first night we were already sheltered, comfortable, consoled, able to make the next step. We lacked for nothing. All we lost was stuff and comfort, we immediately had a home.

And again I go to the floods in Pakistan. How are these people going to survive.
Apparently aid is only trickling in and maybe that is a godsend, maybe there is another way man can exist. How much freer would we be if the basic necessity of shelter no longer mattered. How would if in this dream (my dream i am told again and again) that the shift would actually be that humans have a way of living that does not entail having a structure around you. A fixedness of address. Potentially always at risk of disaster and thus fear.
I don't know why I have such a strong feeling that consciousness is going to be working magic in that space.
That maybe the times are ending for this particular, paradigm we know with its attendant joys and sorrows.
It is probably only just really wishful thinking disguised as possibility.
But these are the time of change - and what better change could there be for us as people to move beyond every law we have so far being taught.
Even down to the basis of eating.

A prayer for the people of Paikstan

My prayer to the people who are in a flood of magnitude beyond belief
is that it is not how much aid money comes in
it is not how much help can be raised

for me it is about you all meeting an infinite compassion
that what animates this universe and beats these hearts
reaches out and transforms your suffering into the birth of a new man.

with your ancient understandings and richness of spirit
that which is
shifts the paradigm and true transformation happens.
that somehow through some shift of atoms, you are no longer
dependent of a physical structure as a home.
that you become fluid and lose the density that keeps you
stuck in this space time
that no longer do you have to weep over flooded or dry fields
but that your sustenance is ever present just by being.
that you no longer have foreign agencies busting into your land
with machines capable of having caused what you are living through.....
that you suddenly can no longer be touched by the hatred
that some foolish speculators are heaping upon you.

I so respect your culture, your customs, your musicians, your spirit.
I pray that you can survive this horror in a way that honors you all.

Trust in God and blow out the candle

2010-07-15T06:24:00.000-07:00

it has been ages since i came to these pages.
nothing to say, nothing to show.
and then it happens that i happen upon this piece displayed below.
i have never read anything of higher value or clarity and this
is what finds it way to these pages …...
Breathe deeply and read on.........

"Self,Presence,
What Is, is said to be......"like the sun shining in the blue sky
- clear and bright, unmovable and immutable....illuminating all" - "Tsung, Kao

"One day the sun admitted, i am just a shadow: I wish to show you the infinite incandescence" - Hafiz

There was this light that became brighter and brighter and brighter, the light of a thousand suns...This brilliant light, of which I was the center and also the circumference, expanded through the universe, and.....this light shone so bright, yet it was beautiful, it was bliss, it was ineffable, indescribable." - Robert Adams.

In this case it is understood, seen, known, as all encompassing Presence, experienced as Light, beyond light, clear Brilliance beyond any conceivable light or brilliance, which is every’where’ and fills and suffices all because simply it is All-That-Is, there is nothing that It is not. It is understood and experienced as Presence because it is the ultimate Aliveness of Pure Being, and the ultimate Awareness of pure Consciousness and
it is what is ‘Here’ ,
it is what ‘Here’ is,
it is what is What is Here, What is Present.

And of its nature it is limitless and uncontained.
This ultimate Being and ultimate Consciousness overflows constantly in the Outpouring of its essence, its nature, which is pure absolute love, complete compassion, total truth, ultimate beauty, Outpouring.
This is what is described as ‘bliss’ not some great orgasmic physiological or physical pleasure, but all-encompassing unconditional unrestricted love, compassion, gratitude, Outpouring.

This overwhelming Beauty-Love-Compassion-Bliss is the very nature, the essence, of the Brilliance that is Sat Chit Ananda; and its constant Outpouring is This ; all of this,
what is known as manifestation, the created universe, phenomena.
This ultimate Truth at the end of human wisdom is not something far away, not something ‘beyond’ in the sense of being something other.

“On no account make a distinction between the absolute and the sentient world. Whatever consciousness Is, so also are phenomena” - (Huang Po)

Consciousness, Presence, All That Is, is not static; it is the infinite field of pure potentiality, the possibility of everything; spilling over, pouring itself out in pure Being, the beingness of everything in pure Love, the Love which everything is.

Words fail; one must use words and then extrapolate from them, attempt to use them to transcend themselves. ‘Love’ is a word that stands for an idea, a concept, which in this context is inadequate to the extreme. In the culture by which these mind/bodies are conditioned, love is held up as the highest value. But we seldom examine what we mean by it. Like most of our thoughts and values, it is surrounded, protected by fuzzy thinking to avoid the clarity which leads to self-examination which can lead to awakening, to seeing through the mist of this world which has been pulled over our eyes to blind us to the Truth.

In fact, our ideas of love are much more tainted than we care to admit with concepts and feelings of involvement, special ness, ownership, exclusion, need, caring, guilt. We think of caring as something important, something of the heart. But caring is only involvement, anxiety, attachment to outcome. It is a misperception that we need to care about this illusory existence, this dream, or that things need to matter. This only generates worry, anxiety, confusions and feelings of separation and guilt. It does no good to the person we ‘care’ for, only perpetuates their own involvement in the dream. This is not Love. Our claim to love only limits ourselves and those we try to love.

Love is not a basis for involvement,
Love is neutrality: it is the true absence of judgments, censorships, desires, worry.
It is our True Nature, All That Is, Presence. It is a reminder that nothing matters. When there is awareness of being always the Presence of this Perfect, uninvolved, neutral Love, there is “the peace that passes all understanding”.

Meister Eckhart, the Christian mystic, said that “You may call God love, you may call God goodness; but the best name for God is compassion”.

Even the concept ‘compassion’ can carry meaning of pity, caring.
But the Buddhist tradition has used the word to mean uninvolved, unattached openness to the best for ‘all sentient forms’ without any thought of anything in return.
When there is no experience of separation, love ‘for another’ disappears along with hate ‘for another’. There can be only being-in-love, being inside love, the Beloved.
And when it is understood that All This unfolds as the perfect dream in Consciousness, the Outpouring of Sat Chit Ananda there is no need for anything to be other than it is.
Love then becomes something like the neutral holding of What Is, in Gratitude, in Compassion, in Presence.

The overwhelming sense is that ‘all this’ just is. What we see as the phenomenal manifestation and life as we know it, with all its ups and downs and pleasure and pain and beauty and craziness; the perfect unfolding of the dream of Consciousness, the constant Outpouring of the Brilliance which is Sat Chit Ananda, beauty_Love, Compassion, bliss: it all just is. In love.

You are not that mind/body just as I am not this mind/body. What Is (what You are) is Sat Chit Ananda, Consciousness, in whose dream appear these mind/bodies. When this is seen , there is awakening from identification as one of the mind/body, by the character in the dream. What happens to this mind/body in the dream cannot in any way alter or affect the dreamer, What I Am, Presence, All That Is.

It all just is. All there is, is for life, the dream, to continue to happen while it continues to happen, and for all there to be acceptance of what is, in an attitude of overwhelming, outpouring Gratitude. To be in Compassionate openness in the Sat Chit Ananda, to the Being-Compassion-Outpouring Bliss. To rave with Rumi and Hafiz and Eckart. To be in love, in the Beloved. There is nothing else. What else can there be?

David Carse. Perfect Brilliant Stillness.
http://www.nonduality.com/perfect_brilliant_stillness.htm

This is what vodka looks like under super duper microsopic sightings. The tequilla is beautiful as is the margarita. Such variety in each blend. Everything looks beautiful at this level. Alive and vibrant, pulsing with colour and energy.
It truly is an amazing dream.

Vipassana in Autumn

2010-04-17T00:36:00.000-07:00

Autumn is no longer a suggestion. Days are suddenly much shorter. Leaves are definitely turning. One can feel the sap begin to descend downwards, into the earth.
Everything senses this change. Meals are warmer, more cooked food, less salad.
Suddenly the summer fruit we have been gorging upon is replaced with apples, pears, guavas and citrus. Walks with the dogs are taken earlier at night and later in the morning. With no television we tend to land up in the bedroom for longer periods. And with this slowed down existence the opportunity seemingly arose for me to choose to do vipassana or not.
There were many years where I had a total averstion to travelling to India. Felt that the suffering would be too great and that I did not want to witness it.
And yet one day I felt the strongest urge to go and a month later I was there.

So it is with vipassana. For many years a particular friend - Bruno - would venture on these inner journeys and return radiant and alive but also with tales of hardship. The hardship part made it an unlikely happening on the map.
Not that there is an aversion to discomfort, can do it easily, but not a seeking out of it voluntarily.

And so this dance of avoidance has thus existed for years.

Although we don't follow school term times in any ardent way, there is a joy when
the other kids are vacationing and one feels that one can be seen wandering around the village with the brood legally.

About a moon phase ago, the household was harmonious and I set off for a bike ride.
Had a big fat grin on the face. Life being particularly sweet. The leaves slowly turning, the puffs of smoke around the village, kids being totally inspiring.
And on the ride away from the home noises I was drawn to a garden where I sometimes sit. No one ever enters this space and I sometimes muse that it only exists in my reality. I am always alone in it apart from a paradise fly catcher that always alights in the space. Spend a few hours in here, leaning against some smooth, fat bamboo. Move deeper and deeper into the silence.
When the light changes I start making my way home. Of course I cycle directly towards Bruno who is cycling directly towards me. He in a bright red shirt and moi in a blue one.

We stop and chat. He tells me he is going on a vipassana in four days time and how he is really looking forward to it. He spoke of the venue which is not far from here. Only an hours drive away. No airports, tickets, visas none of that shit. Just a gentle meander. He also mentioned how the area reminds him so much of Ladakh, how beautiful it was.
I hear my voice asking when the next course was. A bit surprised of course.
And yet not at all surprised when a short while later I put my name for the next one.
And there was space beside it being the easter weekend. And even better I got a lift with someone who knows back roads through valleys I have not even contemplated.

My bed had two windows. Both looking onto mountains. The neighboring farm was a small game farm and at night one could hear the hyenas and lions. I slept with the curtains open and fell asleep under the stars and the waning moon. An owl would perch on the washing line post for a while and would make those occasional verbal calls. And then a diurnal bird would start calling out to the new day and the owl would be silent till the next night. What signaled the change of day so specifically that both these creatures would be aware of and respond to?

Waking up in the dark to a small bell and for a second the mind would say, go back to sleep and yet I would find myself arising, heading for the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. Wakefulness. Walking in the dark to the hall with a soft glow of invitation. And there I spent 12 hours a day for the next ten days.

One night a snake slithered into the hall and there was some reaction to it.
Sage moved into me and I picked it up and placed it in a bucket.
A violin spider shared my room with me and honoured my space by staying on the other side of the room.
A pregnant ghekko also came to stay for the duration.
There was a plumbing problem in the chalet that at times was pretty gross, and my chalet partner left, leaving me to a room by myself. And then the plumbing problem got fixed. Delight arose.

For the first few days, I became a meditator. A new experience. With the technique meditation happened and mind was silenced, awareness sharp and focused. But oh dear the breaks those first few days showed me how alive my inner bitch still was.
Heap more food on your plate why don't you would be my silent comment to someone over helping herself. Don't you know there are another 20 people needing to eat.
And then I would go back in the hall and silence would take over again. Until the next break when mind would break free like a cobra after being held in a tank for a few days.

On the 6th or 5th night I can't recall but the discourse changed from being profoundly interesting to being buddhist dogma. All about the only way to relieve your samskara would be to follow this practice directly for the rest of your life.
And perhaps if it had not gone on for so long it could have snuck by me without the challenger arising.

Anecdotes about Buddha and his life and followers but to me the most vital of his teachings being ignored -
Events happen, deeds are done, but there is no doer -
all there is is consciousness.
and
Emptiness is form and form is emptiness.

And at that moment I stopped being a meditator and just sat there quietly.
A pointer arose which had been with me for a few weeks, well did not arise but exploded - 'There is no becoming - you are already what you seek".
And with that it became apparent that what I was seeking was right here and now.
It was This. Ever present, unchanging, stainless.
And who I believed I was played out its role on this pristine screen with much aliveness and colour.
So clearly perceived that what I am is unaffected by anything.
The most tragic event could befall me such as the loss of my family and yet I
would be unaffected. Even witnessing the end of the planet as the sun gets active.
The greatest joy could befall me and I too would not be in effect of it.
Pristine clarity, Emptiness giving rise to fullness and merging back into emptiness.

In the breaks if I was not contemplating from under a fig tree, I found myself under a rhus tree with a universe of bees collecting the pollen. The weather was magnificent - there would either be an intense wind and chill prevailing or it would be beautifully clear and warm. Nothing insipid, just sheer majesty and wonder.

Discovered some almond trees that were tucked behind others, dropping their nuts into deep compost where they lay undiscovered. Found quince bushes and pomegranates that were not too badly stung. One day I took a fallen twig and wrapped it in a piece of bamboo and then tied a piece of grass around it. When I next walked past it someone had added a stone, and then there was a guinea fowl feather, and then a geranium flower - a shrine unfolded. And then there were several of them along the various pathways. Such a deeply human need to create sacred images and forms.

One session was sitting so quietly and for the first time felt the sensations that the rest of the group had been experiencing for days - (always the last in the class)
they started to intensify and my attention was drawn to the base of my spine - and I said no to it - I said no to anything other than the most ordinary experience that I could access any time.
I knew that if I had a lights one experience I would spent the rest of my life trying to recreate it.
Again and again I said no to phenomenal potentials, just slipped back into the ordinariness of sitting quietly and the majesty of it.

The wind.
The doves.
The Fiscal Shrike.
The tractor
The planes
The dogs
The teachers asthma spray and crinkle of throat lozenge papers
The discourse
The breathing
The sniffing/coughing,sneezing, yawning - suppressed for as long as possible and then exploding outwards.
The acorns bombing onto the corrugated iron roof.
The liberation ...... from the belief that I need to be liberated.

On the final day, talking had commenced. We were eating breakfast and were called out to behind the kitchen, in the male area. This is where it met the game park.
We were called to see an elephant. And then another appeared. They were very close to the fence. A few of us said hi but that seemed a bit silly. So I asked Bruno to sing and he did. A 'Dead can dance" number. In the cold morning air, his voice carried each note in the universe. The male elephant walked down into a donga and bowed and raised his trunk and remained like this for the duration of the song.
Ganesha himself was in that moment.

And in the week of my return earth is stretching and shaking, belching and groaning, doing some powerful emetics. Tectonic plates moving, air traffic coming to a standstill. The sun shooting off a prominence that is breathtakingly spectacular.
The Earth seems to be ready to reach her own point of singularity. I watch it all in wonder and delight.

And light a candle to echo Buddha's prayer:

May all beings be free
May all beings be peaceful
May all beings be liberated...........

And may we all learn to share a leaf of substance as these blessed creatures do.

It dawns on you
that this is what I am,
this simple everyday presence
just as it is.

Sage's serpents this summer

2010-03-18T05:45:00.000-07:00

We live in an area where snakes are reviled and feared and killed on sight.
And in my presence is a 12 year old child whose love for snakes is so contagious that the village calls him upon sighting a serpent (sas) instead of killing it.

So on Saturday, some kids were in an abandoned house (don't even let your mind wander there) and they found a puff adder and they all thought of Sage.
So a contingent arrived to fetch him.
And he gathered this puff adder into his care.
It was night time and he wanted to release him in the mountains and so agreed to keeping him for the night.

A friend of mine , the absolutely beautifully insane Siberian, who is known to sleep in the snow, tells me that I am insane. She asks how I can allow such venom into the living area of our home.
And of course it is totally fucking insane and it is also just the way it is.
Such is this programming that it was never ever questioned.

The next morning Sage comes to call me to watch the snake.
He opens the lid and puts in a white rat - a young one.
I don't see the majesty of the meeting I merely see the open tank door and the puff adder inside.

A huge apprehension lurched and clutched at my solar plexus but awareness went back to simply the watching of the snake and the rat.
This solid serpent lying very still , with a shaft of sunlight falling on him. Looking as content as God herself.

And the rat had not been to school and learnt about snakes and how dangerous they were. He was simply in a different space and in a usual rat fashion was intent on discovering every mm of space there was.
Which included walking and scurrying all over Oscar.
And for a seeming eternity Oscar just remained unaffected.
And then before you could see anything he struck the rat, so fast his fangs were not seen, and the next thing rat was flat on his back, with his mouth opening and closing a few times and then stillness.

Now both were still.
And they lay there for another eternity, and we were all in awe of the speed of strike. At the effectiveness of venom.
There was no pity - there was just a witnessing.
Oscar then ate his meal.

He was released in a river bed.
Sluggish from his feast he had to be edged into the bushes.

The next morning via the bush telegraph I hear that there is a boomslang on Sage's bed.
And sure enough I go there and she is.
Stretched out the length of his mattress.
Not a care in the world.

We take her to a dried out dam.
She is far more feisty, she dances away.

The very next day I hear someone calling urgently from the garden.
I head outside and discover that there is a nearly two meter cobra in the guinea hok.
He has bitten one, which died instantly and the others are running around squeeling.
Bugsy, the much loved rabbit is very close to the snake, but he remains absolutely still. Does not move a muscle. And then again Sage comes along and scoops the serpent up with his homemade stick.
We take her higher up in the mountains , to another dried out river bed. But the fires had not reached here. There was still life.

She slid off through the leaves into the cave.

We got home and a friend arrived. He had just found a pregnant cobra and wanted Sage to help him release it.
They wanted to take photos so they took her up to the empty lei water dam.
She was heavily pregnant and there were no bushes for her to hide, so first she sped over to Tao, then changed direction and went for Clint and then moved towards Sage.
And then she found her way away from the vulnerability of open space.

What a profound happening it has been to come so close to such potential.

It brought all my maternal fears out.
And they are without my strongest trigger in identification.
And yet upon examination, there fears were discovered to be worthless.

Is there any other liberation worth having....

Spaciousness as the screen

2010-03-05T01:08:00.000-08:00

For supper Russian Carrot Pie with brocolli and marrow cooked in coconut cream with freshly ground nutmeg and course sea salt.
And this is the Boa eating his dinner.

The dogs and I are walking in the village by waning moonlight.
9 o clock there are no cars on the road.
Total silence, windows and lives illuminated by warm glowing, non energy saving bulbs.
The dogs, exhausted by the recent full moon barkathons are blissfully silent.

Always a bit surprised by the turns that I am taking.
At the top of the block I think I am going to turn right,
and yet when I get to that point I find myself going straight.
Walking further and further, the body is starting to feel the distance.
Ah in the distance, I see a pile of sand. Find myself walking towards it.

Drop the weight from my legs and fall into the sand in a seated position.
Landing. The sand forming a perfect mould.
It is cold but the body still holds heat from the day.

Leaning back the only thing remaining supported is the head.
Looking forward I see the retreat gardens, some cottages and then the mountains.
But it is the stars that are calling my attention.
This head wants to sink down and also be embraced by the sand but stories and
memories of scalps harbouring sand came to mind.
Eventually gravity had her way and head relaxed completely as well.
Dogs lie down, doing their own inner voyaging.

The owls swoop down silently again, always surprising me.
Profound delight arises each and every time.

In the presence of divine intelligence.
We spend time together in the silence, in the open sky.
Autumn touches me gently on my arms, the most subtle of touches.
The Southern Cross drawing these eyes, I sort of melt into it.

I wanted to thank Life for this expression.
For this landscape, for these amazing children that I share living space with, for their friends, for the village and its inhabitants, for the mountains, for the food, for the sunshine, for the warmth, for the life, for the unfolding of the journey.
As it is.
And for the uncertainties and the fears, the doubts, the seemingly unfulfilled longings, for the dirt and the stubbornness of the illusion.
For it all in all its gradients of experiencing.

The miracle of existence as it unfolds

As someone often says "what is wrong with right now if you don't think about it".

Beyond Words

2010-02-11T04:58:00.000-08:00

Instead of looking at phenomena as a threat........never knowing what will
happen next...........
See it as the resolving aspect of energy.........

Like seeing the tail of a rat as it scurries away........

Suffering is not a problem without the belief in ME.

It is resistance to WHAT IS that is so conflicting.

What is wrong with right now.........if you don't think about it?

Nothing.

The personalizing of 'events' creates the drama.

See everything WITHOUT putting labels.

Everything is emptiness..................form is empty.

With the me it is all shit.

Without the me it just IS.

What is.

The ME is resistance to WHAT IS.

Told you before.......

Hear it now.

Gilbert Schultz

bowing to the shadow......

2010-01-21T22:56:00.000-08:00

20 000 troops in haiti
survivors moved to g bay
another war
another take over
another human tragedy

india comes into my office
and makes eye contact
the canine translation of walk please
i look at the screen flashing
i look at her eyes
and say a huge yes

stepping out into the night
there is a slight breeze in the air
the church clock chimes 10
the dogs romp and wrestle and run
all simultaneously

the stars around me glow, shimmer and attract
the moon not quite half remains orange from the fires
a satellite passes over and around me
in its perfectly ordered trajectory

the roads are clay and stony
i am pleased i found shoes
some sections there are no street lights
and i rely on my knowing of the road
and that gentle moon

and still the dogs run forward and backwards
such bliss
i catch that
a smile is launched from the belly
and spreads outwards
a chuckle starts to brew
and next thing i am one of the mcbeth witches
laughing out loud as i pass the pepper tree

another section of road which has just the right light
to create a perfect shadow
my outline is bold and stretches twice the body's size
i do a dance
and watch the shadow stretch and twist and finally bow

walking on the village dogs are all sleeping
most of the lights are out
and still we walk

another satellite passes by

find myself walking up the steep road to the dam
the dogs run ahead to chase something
an owl soundlessly arises off the road
away from their attention
and lands on the electric wire

i look up at him and he turns his head
to see me
i lie down on the stony earth best to
see him in comfort
the dogs sniff the area around me
they are used to my horizontal inclinations

another owl lands
there are four wires
the one is on the top
and other is just to the right on the second
i am sure it would make a musical note
i wonder how it would sound

the dogs choose to come and lie beside me
there is a deep stillness
i look at the stars and see another satellite
but this one is moving randomly -
perhaps it is from space
and as i am about to get exited about
a possible sighting
one owl swoops down low over me
and lands on a fence post, close by
sunny gets up and it flies off

something tells me i should get home
but i know i won't
the flames which i escaped
were a metaphor for the transformation
unfolding............

embracing the unknown

eventually.......
i find myself walking home
to a house in darkness
electricity out
silent beyond belief
no fans, no radio in kids room
just the silence
and of course haiti, the moon, the owls,
the star, the dogs, the road, the shadow
all within this light of knowing.

Alert - Fire warning - evacuation

2010-01-10T05:56:00.000-08:00

Okay my friends I need some good intentions.
The fire broke out again and the winds have picked up.
They reckon they will start evacuating within the next hour or two.
Hopefully they will contain it but it appears unlikely.
Fucking hell got to load 12 hens, 1 rabbit, 7 guinea pigs, 24 rats,
2 dogs, 2 cats, 4 snakes, 4 kids -
and all the villagers that don't have transport...
Hold thumbs, light candles, we are in for a bumpy ride.

Challenging all assumptions

2010-01-08T05:35:00.000-08:00

Fire fire everywhere
except where there is snow of course.

Fire raging in the mountains around us, strong winds combining to create the most astonishing light I have seen in a long time.
Sitting in the garden the light reflects off my tanned arms.
I stare at in wonder.
A neighbour comes approaches me and asks if I am concerned, I said no not anymore.
But a short while before I had experienced pure panic.
A few hours earlier Tao (always Tao) had gone off hiking with Siyabongi over the hills
and when I looked some time after that, I noticed the fire had traversed a huge distance in a very short span of time and that they were in that vicinity where it was headed.
Got in the car, raced to the spot, went along a path that only a camel would normally be able to traverse, all the time hooting and screaming and in quite a state of panic.

The wind picked up and in that second I felt completely powerless. All I could do was head there myself but then what about the kids and animals at home if the fire came any closer.
So I did something I have become rather adept at, I surrendered.
I sqauatted down and had a pee on the white gravel, (what is it with bladders and fear) watched the pattern form, wondered how that tiny selection of life got liquid at that moment in time.
And with that little bit of microscopic marveling, the panic subsided.
A crow flew low overhead and I just packed up laughing.

Fuck it life - I accept it as it is.
No more resistance.
At that moment Tao and Bongi came over the hill and we headed home where we made plans of getting all the animals out of here.
But the threat lost its intensity and the amazing firefighters put out the blaze that some small penised arsonist started.

Driving to the town the day after a truck of firefighters were on the side of the road and upon sight of them this outpouring emotion expressed itself with tears rolling down the face at the same time as the deepest belly laugh erupted. I got out and shook all their hands and felt pure love for these beings that had just spent three days in a physics laboratory with changing patterns.

Coming home I found yet another neighbour grilling Cian about what he wanted to do with his life. Cian was saying live it.
And he was saying yeah but you got to go to universtity and you have to ...........
As I departed to make tea I heard Cian saying how he was 14 - he had no idea how he wanted to earn a living, probably in as many ways as possible.
And I went in and made him a cup of tea and put a teaspoon of salt in it.
He spat it out and asked if I had done it deliberately.
I said I had done it with more awareness then he was whipping Cian.
He went on to tell me he will never get anywhere if he...
At which point I told him that my entire life I had being pointed out the business leaders, the doctors, the politicians , the people of high education, worthy of respect.
And yet at this jucture in time I would spit at them before I shook their hands.

I told Cian about my emotion upon meeting these men and how it was a pure response from the body with no dialogue from mind.
I said if you can follow your true calling as a human being, being instead of having instead of doing, then you will know peace which is not synonymous with sucess..
And no you will not be invited to estates in the English countryside or to the Hamptons or such.
But those things are losing their allure and value by the second.

And then evening came and dinner was served and Sage offered to carve the chicken.
Again the neighbour perked up with critisicm "who taught you to do that", that is not how you do it, here let me show you" and he then proceeded to do it in the socially acceptable way, where there was more meat left on the carcass then necessary. So the boys grabbed it and did it their way whilst he shook his head.

And for me it was a difficult moment, I have been raised with the whole thing of manners maketh man and that whole paradigm and here I was on the other side of the proper way of doing things. I mean I can accept living outside the grid but could I accept such primitive life skills my offspring possesed when doing this task.
And once again this laugh just arose and I looked at the kids and said I wonder when our cavemen forefathers came up with this rule.

Life gave me an amazing Christmas present this year.
For a non believer it was extra speical.
Whenever suffering arises it is noticed immediately and straight away it will become apparent that there is an assumption acting out and then looking at that assumption I have no choice but to challenge it.

And this gets to be a lot of fun because at the end of the day every single thing needs to be challenged.
And with this, the prison walls come tumbling down, because everything and I mean everything I have been taught or assumed has no veracity and what is left is the clear realisation that there is no me doing or surviving. What I am is the empty space in which the appearance of Su arises and disappears. And this space is totally unaffected by the arisings.

Anyone for chicken?

how about..........

2009-12-27T09:09:00.000-08:00

Wishing whomever lands on this page

peace

deep belly laughter

wonder

understanding

awe

and the clear knowing
of the truth of our being

2009-10-18T02:51:00.000-07:00

The Proof is in the Pudding
or perhaps in response to a tricky situation.......

In the left hand picture we have a picture of Ramana Maharshi - a giant of silence and understanding, beyond the realm of a teacher.
He wandered into my life many years ago and it is face that speaks to me directly, more than the words which were few and have been made noisy by his followers.
I visited his ashram for a while but spent most of my time with a holy man on the mountain whose job it was to chase away goats from the newly planted trees.
I happened upon him on my way to the caves where Ramana sat for many years and where today the holy one's continue to explore realms beyond pleasure and pain.
Everyone kept asking me if I felt the Sage's presence, and my awkward response was always a guilty no.
But then there was this simple being in a loin cloth - shining so brightly.
He invited me to sit with him for a while.
And then he showed his omniscience for he retrieved a straw mat from beside the rock and placed it under a tree.
Wow - how did he know I liked to be horizontal in the heat.
He folded up a cloth as a pillow and invited me to lay down.
Which I did - he continued planting and chanting to Shiva and Shakti and in the blink of an eye, the day had absented itself.
The next day the desire to visit the caves was replaced by the desire to just go and lie with the goat man.
And thus my time at Arunuchala was spent lying down, falling into the deepest sleep, and in the background, worship and forestry were ongoing.

The only photo I have of him is on paper and I could copy it over, but then I would have to hunt for the card reader or the download cable oh and the camera - and let us face life is too short to be looking for what is not here right now.
Suffice to say he was the beauty of this sacred mountain.

But my real reason for heading to India was as a gift to myself.
I had recently had a miscarriage in the second trimester of pregnancy and started bleeding.
Not being alarmist I took copious amounts of yarrow and other herbs reputed to stop blood loss.
By the time I realised that it was not doing its job and decided to go to hospital hours had past.
I had lost consciousness by the time we arrived and needed blood transfusions and such.
How can I describe the lack of consciousness - it was not knowable whilst there it was only on returning to this paradigm that I could recall this space.
And of course I am putting words here that did not exist there.
It was no-thingness. A black void of complete silence.
It was beyond any other description.

Some time later I received some money and instead of using it for something "sensible" I decided to go and feed my spirit.
I had happened upon the teachings of Ramesh Balsekar who resided in Mumbai and thus I journeyed to the great unknown.
A translator for Nisargadatta Maharaj for many years.
Here was this man in a 83 year old body with the sharpest of minds.
I would watch him tirelessly leading people to the truth of their desire.
We all started off expressing how we were looking for enlightenment which he would quickly debunk.
What we were actually looking for was peace and the way to get peace he advised was to ascertain who was the doer.
Once that had been established then there could be no grief, pride, envy, blame.
He repeated over and over again how all there was is consciousness - consciousness is all there is.

This being had a huge impact on my life.
Through him the courage appeared to live this life as I wanted to. Beyond grabbing and avarice and without bowing to the god or corporate safety.
A man so extremely ordinary and yet a teacher of measure.
A few times I would write to him and a few weeks later a faded 30 year old aerogram would weave its way to my postbox with the words on it again expressing that events happened, deeds were done , but there was no doer.
He would re-iterate how life continued to unfold its destiny and of course there was pain, but it did not define one.

Now it would seem that many of the teachers have had some sexual scandal hanging over them.
And this is where this blog is leading (yeah, in a very convoluted fashion) -
Four years ago or so he went to do his annual retreat in Kovolam - Germany - with a handful of regular devotees arranging it and bringing in some new faces.
Ramesh was 89 at this time and in presence was an eagle, in body a sparrow.
He had a young German woman who attended his talks daily in Mumbai and traveled with him as a companion and support. I can't recall her name.
And then there were 3 other women who all had some claim to him.
So one day they are on their break during the retreat, and his Mumbai assistant pops up with
"I massage Ramesh in breaks to keep him calm - and often give him a happy ending"
Ditto the others.
But now for me the most interesting thing was they were all okay with what they were doing when they believed they were the only one's doing it.
But upon discovering that others were also giving him pleasure it turned into a scandal.
They marched upon the organisers and demanded action talking about the guru and the abuse of power.
Now if we were talking about teenagers or vulnerable women I would question it too, but these were all mature, able capable women who seemingly chose to do what they do.

So the next session, beloved Ramesh was challenged in a totally confrontational way.
Name dragged through the mud on every channel.
And he stood still and poised and answered "yes what you say is true - these allegations have merit"
Actions happened , deeds were done, but there was no doer.

His wife when questioned about it could not understand the shock - she stood by him.

Anyway 2 Sunday's ago Ramesh left his sparrow body for a larger flight plan/circle or his wave simply sank back into the ocean.
And when I am struck by feelings of lack of self worth I am reminded that of 6 billion people on this planet, I was one of the lucky one's that got to sit at this beings feet.

And life in her infinite wisdom, seeing that I was still straggling and holding onto separation sent another teaching this way.
Endlessly patient, clear, available, most gentle but not adverse to a rib nudging when necessary saved me deeply from myself the other day.
Was trapped in the fury of earth and it's corrupt leaders and its cruelties and with that my own supposed flaws which need to be wiped out bla bla blah. You know the power of resistance.
And so I wrote to Gilbert http://www.seeing-knowing.com about the greyness and the downward turning mouth and a lack of joy and where the hell was the inherent joy he spoke of .
His reply which really knocked me into full fledged laughter was"under the mask your are wearing stupid".
No words could have been more profound or meaningful.

I decided to poke my head out of the rabbit warren yesterday and happened upon some Sunday papers. The gap between the rich and the poor here has now overtaken Brazil. Our ministers loyal to their leader and not their people have been forking out millions on luxury cars.
The trade unions are sharpening their blades and not a moment too soon.

Tao returned, taller with more knowing in his look.
He is building a growing shed in the garden (isanga in xhosa), has refurbished the chicken hok, and is turning out some very inspired meals.
The other babes roll out onto the sodden earth in the morning and return when hungry.
Right now Sage has ventured up to the dam with a handmade spear gun - fishing with a difference.

letting go..

2009-09-05T11:07:00.000-07:00

My beautiful 15 year old son Tao had an altercation with his father.
I understood the boy/man's sense of injustice.
I have not seen him for 24 hours.
He is on a train heading to Joburg.
He says he needed to do this, get away see if he could survive
the outside world.
I know he needed it, but there is a tenderness arising and a concern.
The full moon rises.
The jasmine scents
The dogs leap about in anticipation of a walk.
Life continues
as it always does......
And I ask your prayers be with him...
this beautiful being
learning to fly

The missing muse

2009-08-29T01:02:00.001-07:00

emptiness arises
in your absence
speak to me.......

Today a cold front blew in...

2009-08-18T09:35:00.000-07:00

Today a cold front moved in with absolute presence and the fire and I became intimately acquainted.
Having stood on my reading glasses, less and less time gets spent reading.
More and more time just being with what is right there.
Found a huge bucket of fennel seeds. The plants thrive here.
The wood was wet and was not taking so I scattered some of these seeds on the logs.
It took a while, but they sort of exploded into life and fire and burnt for a surprisingly long time. And the sound effects were rather profound.

Looking out the lounge window, the almond and peach trees have slowly unfurled parts of themselves to become blossoms.
It must have been whilst I was sleeping.
The jasmine has reached out with such fierce abandon that she releases her aroma down every street, and across every field.
It's an eternal aromatic feast.
The amygdalas flip forwards in sheer ecstasy.

The swallows never left this year, as last year they might have sensed the huge transatlantic storms. It has been a mild winter and the mosquitoes have not died out this year as they have in the past. Likewise flies and ticks. They are still around, albeit less.
So I guess that signals that there was no need for these birds to migrate because there was sufficient food here. It had nothing to do with storms.
Just another story.

About 8 weeks ago , Siyabonga (Xhosa for thank you) appeared at our doorstep.
And neither India nor Sunny objected.
He had been in a squatter camp some distance away but wanted to return to McGreor.
But he did not like the process of working as a gardener in different gardens each day of the week. Never actually becoming the space.
No, he wanted to be in this garden daily and could we let it happen.
Since he has been here, we have cleared, chopped, burnt, sawed, pulled, fed, watered, planted, sprouted, fed some more, and watched with delight as the energies returned. I swear this being is a creator.
And life sent him this way.

The hok (chicken run)was completely rejuvenated.
Became rabbit proofed as well.
The hens started laying in particular places at regular times.
We were actually getting eggs for the first time.
The nettle was pulled up and used to make supercharge feeder with a cow pat thrown in for a few days soaking.
Indeed it looked as if someone had come in with a wand.
We planted sweetmelon, leeks, radish, basil, watermelon, butternut, tomatoes, peppers, cabbage, shard, spinach, brocolli, grandilla, strawberries and of course the flowers to enhance Krishna's smile - calendulas. Oh yes and trying pineapples. Although it will take two years till the first fruit - it does not appear I will be going anywhere.
And after all this work - of course there is the resting.

Today the kids decided that they wanted to try grafting. A spelling test had been lined up (just so that I could feel responsible and all that). But they know if they can originate an idea that will get them moving and creating, I will always forfeit lessons.
A young pecan sapling presented itself. They informed me that unless it was grafted it would take 15 or so years to bear nuts. Yet if we grafted it from one of the mature pecan trees, it would bear nuts very soon. So they studied "Self Sufficiency" by John Seymour and discovered the techniques. They know where all the good fruit is in the village so they returned with pure potential and happily set about the splicing and joining.

We now have four guinea pigs again. I was preparing food one night and it pained me to put the parings into the compost. Whenever a meal happened we would always set the scraps aside for the eekers. There was a complete absence without them.
They are for socialistation reason kept in the new refurbished hoks, except of course when they come into the fireplace for an evening visit.

So somehow there is this harmony and clarity in this space. And the beauty is that I can't take any credit. It just happened.
For those who know the story, hear it afresh....
Now many years ago there was an elderly dame who lived in this ramshackle, rustic house. And this woman planted this garden. The fruit and nut trees. She had many chickens and geese. .
Often when people walk around here they speak of the presence of elementals.
It passes me by.
Cynthia had a stick pile which used to serve as refuge to snakes.
recall snake dreams).
Many people in this village will opt to chop a serpents head off if they see one.
Deal with fear by killing.
They always say it is to keep the children safe.
And yet the snakes keep the children safe.
One day Iona and Tao went to get firewood from an adjoining plot. She got arms length away from a puff adder and Tao very calmly told her to come towards him as silently and smoothly as possible.
And she did.
And of course the snake did not strike, she knew they would not harm her.
But alas they are fair game here. So here was a stick pile and cobras and others would harbour there.
Many years later our guineas would inhabit and make tunnels in these piles.
Anyway, I am rambling.

So Cynthia dies in her 90's. Her ashes get spread in this garden.
And by the time they get scattered it has become a loved, productive space again.
And the birds sense it because at lunchtime, I lie on the fucked up, falling to pieces couch outside and watch the light filtering through the various greens.
And when I close my eyes, the birds come to attention. And each day there are new sounds and calls, and concerts.
And yet today they had a visiting tenor, and several sopranos from fields afar.
I am so totally entertained by this space that desire has become less and less scratchy and demanding. It hardly arises at all.

There was a lunar eclipse yesterday morning. Earths shadow on the moon.
And on Sunday there was this massive sun dog around the sun.
We were on the volleyball court and it was really like being in the presence of something so significant and profound as to make the experience mystical.
And then we played and laughed under its luminous intensity.

It was just before lunchtime. Earlier on we had dug up all the weeds and devil thorns off the courts, and tidied up the lines. Things got a bit tense over line calls if the game was tight. So there are 12 of us on the court under the atmospheric dog when a black eagle starts circling around us. Right in the village. Enormous. Going round and round.
Endlessly.
His shadow falling on us.

And today suddenly the blue sky turned white and ice arrived.
Outside my window it looks cold and bleak.
And yet I know that out there in the darkness the jasmine and sweet peas are in flower.
Everything is waiting to burst back into life.
The energy withdrawing from the roots and moving upwards and outwards.

And despite the times being trying, and the systems collapsing, there is a stillness in our midst.
It is in that space that our beauty and perfection is reflected.

And on a totally silly note:
Piglet and Tigger meet up in 3 acre wood. And Tigger being his usual boisterous, bombastic self leaps up and down and tells Piglet that he is so fierce that all he has to do is roar and creatures run and Piglet tells Tigger "hey, that is nothing. I just have to sneeze and the whole planet shits itself".

And still we dance..........
And still he reappears off different memory cards.

This particlular expression

2009-08-11T08:58:00.001-07:00

Last night in the sleeping dream I was walking along a tree lined road.
Magnificent old oaks in full summer splendor.
As I was about to pass a tree and a low branch I became aware of a cobra
on one of the branches.
The situation was as such - if I moved either forward or backwards I was going to
be in striking range of this creature.
So I stood perfectly still.
This elderly African priest (from my childhood) drew alongside me.
I did not warn him about the snake.
He greeted me with all the love in his heart and walked forwards only
to be struck by the Cobra.
I awoke horrified at my actions.
I went to sleep and in the course of the night I dreamt the exact same dream and
awoke with the same feeling of disbelief.

And this is the view to which I awaken to the waking dream.

>

The power which has been off for a day due to being in arrears on the rates and taxes is resolved after signing a pledge to make up the lack in my blood.
But it is rather anemic today so hopefully the signature will fade into nothing.
Like a chicken who suddenly has food I rush around the web consuming thoughts, ideas, despair and of course love. Each has a part. I am drawn to an article about the most spoilt girl in the UK at the age of 12. Won't even go into but should you want to purge your last few meals google it.
And then downloading photos I found this picture of Iona's 8th birthday.
As it was in the holidays only 3 of her friends were around.
She had a cut on her foot (rusty metal - no tetanus) and so the party food
had to be relatively body friendly.
But these kids have such a blast - savoring the juice, the crisps, the carrot cake and then there was no games laid on or entertainment, they simply took themselves off to the dam and explored - just like every other day.
But today more special because it was Iona's day.
It made me realise again how totally unspoilt they all are.
I sometimes wish I could be more generous with 'stuff' but on this particular day I welcomed the lifestyle and its simple pleasures and lack of consumerism.

And with this gratitude for the lifestyle, I took the dogs up through the nature reserve. As soon as we step out the door, I am witness to their total ecstasy as they leap upon each other, talking, playing, pure energy and joy.
We walk upwards towards the dam. Although it is still winter here, the sap is rising and buds are forming. But as this is fynbos land, the natural growth is having an early spring. The colours contrast - never clashing, always complimenting each other.
By the time I am halfway to the top, my heart is pounding and my face is flushed.
Total aliveness is present.
I look around to see if Nina is roaming out there as well today.
And this is the village I call home. Probably the equivalent of 12 city blocks.
No movies, no ATM's, no bowling alleys - nothing, nada - and yet see its beauty, feel its stillness.

And just before we got to the top of the dam I hear someone calling me.
Being a grumpy anti social bitch most of the time I did my best to ignore it.
Just not in the mood for chit chat.
And yet this voice was persistent and caught up to me.
As I saw who it was my gut lurched.
Oh fuck no not you was the inner dialogue.
And another thought was saying come on Su it is not going to kill you to
be open and warm.
And at that moment it could have gone either way and by grace, openess won.
Not because of me being a nice person but simply because warmness arose.
We walked and spoke for a while and as the path was narrow at that point I was ahead.
And then we came to a huge boulder that needed to be scrambled over and I was very aware of a hole in my pants so I let him go ahead.
As he got to the top of the boulder he said Oh shit.
I climbed up and there was a cobra - who had just spat at him before I arrived.
And yet he was wearing thick glasses and the fluid ran down the lenses.
The snakes should still be hibernating.
We became very bonded in that moment, in the presence of such power.

Coming home to a bowl of steaming polenta and honey, I looked at the downloaded pictures and guess who came back to life.
George. In a slightly slow northern england dialect, he appeared and with him all the laughter that he ever evoked in me came bursting forth.
How could he ever be gone.

Sage and his imaginary pet falcon.
He feels if he talks falcon to it - why would it remain a chicken.

Ramana Maharshi receives a visit.
Snakes, snakes, snakes.

So apologies for this not being a political, social commentary but hey when I think of what Life had to do for this particular expression to have these particular experiencings, I figured I would like to honour that.

To Life in all its wisdom.

Lest we forget

2009-08-04T06:22:00.001-07:00

In an open tomb with a telephone
we wait for god or fire............

Moon Rise June

2009-06-16T00:29:00.000-07:00

Walking the dogs on full moon night
nothing wrong
everything right
nowhere to go
no amends to make
nothing to fix
no need for improvement
moon doing her thing
this heart not missing a beat
in this ordinary moment
my Self did I meet.

Well we have been particularly active in the unschooling.
Sleeping later on the cold winter mornings, moving to the fireplace and eating steaming porridge slowly.
Articles are read of late from "After Armageddon" whilst the kids draw, paint, sculpt with whatever is in the immediate surrounds.

This continues for a few hours and those that are drawn to text books make their way to them and spend several hours "learning" - those that are not inclined either start throwing oranges at me - we throw two at a time and
see how many throws we can get in without dropping one. (What do they say about simple things pleasing simple minds) or simply move out into the village.

Our neighbour spent several hours weed eating his lawn with an incredibly noisy, industrial strength machine, which when finally switched off brought a stillness that was tangible. So Tao made a portable guinea grazer which he thought of hiring out as an environmentally friendly and delightful alternative to keeping your grass short.
He also re routed the grey water to a french drain with a banana plantation on top.
When I asked him how he feels about not going to university he says fine - I could not bring myself to study what is expected. I told him that there will be a certain class of people he will not be able to access without a degree and he looked at me with a huge question mark which twisted into a smile and said yeah, big deal.

On Sunday morning I closed the kitchen cupboards and told the kids there would be no food coming out of that room today and what could they do about it. Sage went out and with his bare hands caught a guinea fowl and prepared it for the pot. I swear he is a Koi San. Hunter supreme. He came to tell me with absolute awe what he found in this creature's belly: acorns, nettle, snail meat, and a few things I can't recall. He was so impressed with the variety of his diet and swore that this must be almost perfect food. Cian and Iona scavenged for some Moroak (wild indiginous spinach) and tulbaghia (wild garlic). Some tomatoes were found, a bit past their prime but cooked in a pot over the outside fire they blended in fine).

Read an article about choosing where you put your attention and although I did not choose anything it appears that it is going to a place of stillness as opposed to variety and strength.
I guess it could just be winter and the journey within, hibernation of the human spirit.

Having read many many books on Advaita and having an intellectual understanding that was prone to flipping and flopping, I was graced by a book called You are Nothing by Randall Friend, published by Non Duality press. (Can anyone whisper in my ear how to do links) - whereby for the first time it became why this me was an illusion. So clear, and unlike so many books which just add concepts to the picture, this one challenges them and upon that investigation - dissolves them.

As I am looking less at the world out there, I thought it would be nice to showcase the creativity coming out of this space by sharing some of the projects undertaken.
And thank you Nina for the inspiration.

Am heading off to the great city of gold for a few weeks to be with my daughter and grandchildren.
In the past it used to be regarded as a challenge, now it will be a grand adventure into the complete unknown.
Love to you all.
And then some more.

Iona' horse and blacksmith

Cian's still life of winter fruits

Banana grove french drain

Sage's incense holder made out of beeswax.

Tao's earth friendly weedeater.

Sage's sunbird

Sage harvested resin on full moon day.
He then took the thread from the banana stem.
He made a glue out of quince seed and water and rubbed it into the thread.
He then heated it over the fire.

Teach your children well

2009-05-21T09:58:00.000-07:00

Iona drew this - she is the angel and I am the small child.

Alice meets up with the caterpillar and asks him which way she should go, he says well where do you want to be and she replied that she did not really know to which he responded in that typical fashion of someone with many many legs, that it did not matter which way she went in that case.

I have been in the salt mines of late.
I am blessed with this amazing girl child who is the most spontaneous, alive, zestful, playful being imaginable.
Once she went through a phase that lasted a few weeks where she developed a story about death. She started really experiencing pain. I mentioned to her that her pain body was taking control and explained what was happening. She understood immediately and now kicks it out before it kicks in.

So here we have radiance and here we have her mother.
Her mother who perhaps spends too much time in front of this flat screen with changing words and images.
And from these words and images, a world is created and it is a world that totally evokes the pain body into action.
And not only that but it sort of flushes this mother with a vague sense of superiority that she is aware of things that her friends in the pub on Friday night are not.
She is also unbelievably cynical and because the emotional roller coaster of keeping up with “the world” and it’s happenings are exhausting she tends to avoid taking up Iona’s offer to pick up pecan nuts, or to build a hide out.
When this mother does (by pure grace, not by intention) find herself being together and baking or such, it is such joy that the question arises, why don’t I do this more often?

And yet the magnet switches on and I am sucked into this sphere which I consider to be as real as this table, but switch it off and it does not exist, remove a cable and that whole world disappears. So how real can it be? And how is my presence here benefiting anything. I mock the Fox viewers for their blind adoration and following, I just happen to have the same blind following to the alternative source of news.
Does that make me a better human being?
I don’t think so.
Last week, or should I say when the moon was full and sleep evaded me I headed down to the lounge to stir the fire back into life. I found some pictures Iona had been drawing and then some writing that she had done. A seven year old wrote this, (translation to follow):
sum peepil say that the woild will cum to u end. Wee ar bee coming cleveru bi maykin things bit wee ont uwar ubaout the plooshin for the woild when makin thins. And wee shod start wokin together lyk bees and the umerocins ur beeg priks. To hulp the woild hyuris ulitil sayn I madup. Work togeeth for ur world s
hulth.

Some people say that the world will come to an end. We are becoming cleverer by making things but we don’t worry about the pollution for the world when making things. And we should start working together like bees and the Americans are big pricks. To help the world here is a saying I made up: “Work together for your world’s health”.

Okay so I follow the Waldorf principal and we don’t take spelling seriously at this stage. But what did surprise me was this child wrote this piece on her own initiative and what concepts had I placed in her realm.
I made the older kids watch zeitgeist and write essays on it. . I also read to them a blog that Nina mentioned “After Armageddon” and they had to write essays about what they had seen and read and she obviously picked up on it.

And then it occurred to me that I had, through these actions led them to hold the belief that not only were the Americans arseholes but that they were also separate from the rest of the world and were single handedly destroying it.
As I mentioned earlier remove the power from the computer and it ceases to be a source of information.
Remove the concept of evil American and it ceases to be anything but a geographical phenomena rising from the ocean of untold beauty and potentiality.
Some of the most beautiful, expansive people I know are Americans.

Here I am teaching my children, polarity, division, separation, superiority, inferiority and fear. And as hard as I tried to compact this into my pipe I could not get it to ignite. It could just not sit with me. I mean obviously it was not a mistake, nothing is. Everything that happens happens because it is meant to happen. It could look like a travesty, a crime, whatever, but it happens because it is the play of life. Arising from emptiness and dissolving into the same.

Tomorrow I can assure you I will loose this pink fluffy acceptance I will say fuck that it’s bullshit, it is a travesty etc. etc.

So not judging the situation but at the same time mind tries to find an alternative.
How about I give up trying to teach the kids “about the world”. How would it be if I left them to directly experience whatever arises without trying to fit into my view of life. My tainted lens.
Would it be possible? Is it their destiny? Who knows.

What has happened is that I have rediscovered the joys of picking up and discovering the pecan nuts as they nestle under the fallen autumn leaves.
I have discovered the joy of putting mattresses on the lawn in the gentle winter sun and watching the clouds change character and dimension with the varying temperatures of the day.
Watching the leaves dance their way to their deaths. Noticing how some will stay alight for just that much longer.
Listening to the birds and their ever present calls to each other.
Planting broccoli, parsnips, potatoes, coriander and lettuce (blessed winter climate that one can still grow).
Tickle the kids backs.
Make up stories.
Discover how to make apple crumble with quinces.
How to make cashew nut milk.
How to ride my bicycle with no hands.
Teaching the kids to drive.
Drawing with Iona. Explaining to her that everything is perfect. That every person is completely whole and divine. That nothing needs to change.
And in this space it is so completely true….

Until I come back to this Pandora’s box.
And even that is perfect.
You can’t get away from the fact that everything is exactly as it should be.
How beautiful is that.

On the side of the track.

2009-05-14T09:55:00.000-07:00

Nina - http://deepintoartlifewest.blogspot.com/2009/05/favor-of-file-keepers.html

In This
Gratitude abounds
for Life
and the absolute wonder of it.

The natural state.

2009-05-10T10:10:00.000-07:00

The mind resting in the Self is its natural condition but instead of that our minds are resting in outward objects.

Making God Laugh

2009-04-27T07:46:00.000-07:00

It has been said that if you want to make God laugh, tell her your plans.

In my own life this has proved itself again and again. More often then not what I planned becomes something completely different. It is just the nature of life.

Looking at the situation today, the parents of Madeleine McCann, who were suspects in their daughters disappearance, are honororay guests on the Oprah show. Boxes of tissues are placed under the audience seats so determined is Oprah that they will be moved to tears as Kate bears her sorrow. What Oprah does not mention is that the only place these parents searched was on their laptops, and indeed the mother refused to answer the 48 questions put to her by the police. But hey, they are all people of the lie. And just because Oprah reckons Ekhart Tolle is the greatest, does not mean she is spirtually evolved, it just means she has found someone to give her shallow existence depth via a philosophy which is hard to refute.

And then of course the million and one flashpoints around the globe from the Somalia hero pirates to the newly elected president Jacob Zuma (I am optimistic). Added into that an eerily quiet sun with no activity and we have set the stage for some fist clenching. Of course Les and others have been talking for some time about a happening starting in April which will be catacylsmic. Obviously it could not be another "terrorist attack" even the sleeping sheeple are waking up to that ruse. Well what do we have- hey how about a flu outbreak.
And the mysterious suicides of the top ten microbiologists in the States within the past few years.
In the past few days eighty people have died in Mexico and people are being popped into quarantine all over the world.

Google bless their compassion, are making possible maps following the trail of this deadly virus.
So now let us say, that all of those people that have been making waves for the neocons are all known to Google - due to their searching and posting. This information becomes handy in setting them up as having the flu and incarcerating them in special facilities. And because you have once again upped the planet's fear levels thanks to Murdochs baby, the general population will not even utter a word when their human rights are violated. As long as they will be safe. It will be each man for himself.

And I think the plan that these people in charge have is very large, and basically fool proof.
Except for one thing, they did not take into account the need for God's laughter.
I dreamt last night that I was in a nightmare situation where I was swimming in a river of human limbs and everywhere there was screaming. At first I was struggling to get away from it, when suddenly laughter started in me which I could not stop and all these isolated limbs attached themselves to their respective bodies again and they in turn started laughing. And the laughter grew and grew in volume and depth, and where it had been murky, it became a brilliant light. And where there was horror there was this sheer, absolute joy.

We know that terrible things are happening, and yet we must resist despair or fear.
We must laugh
we must laugh........

A day of nothing

2009-04-05T06:26:00.000-07:00

The family awoke in a very insular space.
It appeared as if the internal world had completely dissipated.
For me there was absolutely nothing beyond the confines of the property.
No politicians, no world crisis, just a very ordinary day with not much with
which to play.
We sort of met in the kitchen in a case of absence of intention.

Until someone found the paintbrushes and paints.
The condition was everyone had to share the paper.....

A few months ago, I stepped away from the hearth for a few days and returned home to four hens and a rooster.
Since then the numbers have increased somewhat.
14 adolescents and in the last four days 32 babes have hatched.

So of course all one needs to do once our inner artists had been satisfied was to step into the garden for some full on entertainment.

And still on this incredibly deep and profound day which captivates the clan so aptly we then have me spending the rest of the day on the couch under the vines (my office) nurturing an abandoned chic.

And allow me to introduce you to a creature who has been rumoured to be Obama's replacement - meet Baldrick. He just refuses to believe he is a fowl and when he sees a human flies up into their arms.

And for those calling for photos of me with buckets of manure on my head - well I don't know quite how to maneuver self portraits whilst carrying shit but here goes the results of the shit carrying. There should have been a before and after, before it was all red clay with zero ability to retain water.

And finally as a gift to you, members of the tribe - I gift you with this green.

Hanging on in a strange land

2009-03-23T02:02:00.000-07:00

Impossible art by Li Wei: http://images.google.co.za/images?q=li+wei&oe=utf-8&rls=org.mozilla:en-US:official&client=firefox-a&um=1&ie=UTF-8&ei=9VDHSbDSBuDDjAfT_N2CCw&sa=X&oi=image_result_group&resnum=4&ct=title

A few months ago, the kids and I went into town for library, shopping, fish hook removal from arm, that kind of usual town visit.
Now the nearest town is extremely beautiful with a lot of original cape dutch houses and beautiful gardens, as well as the modern ugh. It is predominately Afrikaans and thus deeply conservative. The population here is extremely xenophobic, homophobic, dopophobic but apparently has a huge population of swingers. This has been confirmed to me by several sources. But I guess you can swing all you want as long as you head to church on Sunday for absolution.

So we are driving along, relief that the fish hook is no longer embedded in Sage's arm. No idea how many times I have told him in that sort of maternal whine not to leave hooks in clothing or wrapped in towels. This was the second barbed hook removal.
There is a light hardheartedness in the car for the simple reason that someone we love is no longer in pain and everyone is buoyant and harmony prevails. And it is with this outer harmony that my vision is drawn to a light in a shop that for many years had been empty. So attention goes towards this light and immediately (astonishing the brain) comes up with Chinese Take Away. And it does this effortlessly. Now living where we do, there are no distractions. And I mean no distractions. No malls, no movies. nada. Just ourselves. So here is a novelty. This is almost like Christmas. Next thing the car stops and we tumble out to have a look.

It is very simply done. Everything is basic and clean. The fridges have a few drinks but even being an optimist, these are more empty than full and the shelves have a few packets of white rabbits spread along sparsely. (Hey ma, we survived melamine). The couple in their early thirties are standing there with much pride. I try to strike up conversation, but neither speak English and I am no linguist so it ends there. We continue by facial and hand expressions. We look at the menu and decide that we will support them with a basic meal, which we eat on the pavement over the formica tables. They offer sushi but that would have to be for another time. It is mid month after all. The food is okay, not great, but okay and in my heart I wish them well.

Now for the next few weeks this couple appear in this thinking, even when their shop is not visible. They have found a way into my memory and something about them activates this data flow a lot of the time. I tell everyone I know to try it out and even go so far as to tell them the food is brilliant. I am willing to lie for them. I don't know why. These people have moved so far from home. They have not to gone to Australia where they would be amidst their clan, they have come to Africa and a part of it where they are the only people of this culture. Pik snot aleen is how we would describe it here.
I would wonder what they do with their evenings, how they managed to get permanent residence here (virtually impossible), what made them choose here etc etc.

And whenever we went there for a few months we would eat something on the tables and head off again to the library. But we were the only people that we ever saw there and slowly this feint waft of grief permeated the place so deeply that I was loathe to revisit it.
One so often reads about moving to new lands, but this was the first context in which I felt the full pain of leaving one's mother land.

Last week we drove in, again to the library and shopping and again first call to the doctor. The boys were building a tree house and had a chain line of throwing bamboo sticks along. Cian got one just above the eye. He ran towards me crying with blood pouring. My heart stopped and I was sure it was his eye. Fortunately it was just above his eye and after stitches there was that same relief that everything had been sorted and that the emergency was over. And it was on this note that my eyes were caught by the lack of light shining from the Chinese Take Away. All there was left was a legal notice on the door and the formica tables still on the pavement.

I don't know where they went or how they survived the loss of what must have been a great dream.
And of course the wish that I could have done more to make them feel at home in this strange land....

Mountain revival

2009-03-10T05:26:00.000-07:00

An inspiration of children
decided to uproot me off my sorry arse
and venture into the unburnt, misty mountains......

The most astounding bounty of treasures lined the way...

A paradise of pools and waterfalls
with the sweetest water awaited our splashing bodies.....

The wizard children coaxed flames to life
despite wet twigs and slow falling cloud juice...

and meals fit for kings were served....

in this majestic mountain kingdom
removed from the thinking mind
and placed in full experiencing
gratitude arose from the depths of my being
for our needs being filled
again and again and again
by the most simple yet profound gifts from nature.......

2009-03-07T06:34:00.000-08:00

i am told that I am the seeing
the pure seeing
that is not
affected by what is seen.
in the same breath I am told
that I am not the seer nor the seen.
not the hearer nor the heard
indeed I have been told so eloquently
that what I am is unaffected by anything appearing
on the screen of existence………..

so why does it feel as if this body/mind is imploding
or melting into a pool of useless waste
with no salvageable parts or any redeemable returns
dissolving into the quagmire of humanity
not to meet wisdom or clear seeing
but to be another wasted life on a heap of billions of others……

why…
because that’s just the way it is in this sordid play called life
we play till we’re played out
smoked out
sexed out
hoped out
seen out
tricked out
lied out
mothered out
but eventually outed we are….
whose idea was this dream anyway……..
and can we ever wake up?

2009-02-21T05:24:00.000-08:00

Taking leave of my Goddess

6 weeks ago to the day a series of events occurred that created a radical change of lifestyle.

The first one was in the sleeping dream. I was taking care of a child’s much loved corn snakes. They were on a table in front of me and the male, orange, brown and black suddenly pounced on his life partner, pink and white, and started swallowing her. I was too shocked to move immediately, they were after all life partners. By the time action happened all that was left was her tail sticking out of his mouth. I tried to pull her out to no avail. The child entered the room and gently pulled and sure enough she came out unharmed. He then flashed me a grin and left and sure enough the same thing repeated itself.

Then in the waking dream I went walking in the gorge. Came upon a pit, and in the pit were many baboon skeletons and skulls. Some large, some small but it was a mass grave. I went to Cape Nature but they told me farmers set traps as these creatures are incredibly destructive. Its not that they eat what they need they literally rampage and can destroy an entire orchard and vineyard. So the men who toil the soil kill them – what else can they do. I guess the baboons being here first has no bearing here, or give them no rights; after all they do not own the pieces of paper making them owners of the land. They have just become a nuisance.

Then there was a domestic dispute involving a man a woman and a broken bottle. Managed to break it up thanks to both parties severe inebriation and an inability for the man to lunge to far forwards without falling flat on his face.

I saw clouds of poison every day being sprayed on the grapes to keep them free of mould. I saw the drivers of the tractors spraying, with no masks, just breathing it all as are we all. It is thick in the air.

I saw pictures of children killed and injured in Gaza and pictures of grieving parents. And even in this village far from Zimbabwe, I see the Zimbabweans creeping in, starvation outweighing the fear of xenophobic attacks. And further afield people have become slaves without even knowing it.

The sleeping dream pretty much covers the current sense of being. Eaten alive, being sucked in and yet at the same time the possibility for regeneration is always present. And regeneration is seen to be needed direly.

This mind has slipped into some quick sand and thoughts were tending to obsessive, with a more then necessary dose of fear thrown in to the mixture. Life had lost its sweetness and I was projecting my stuff onto others with false sagacity intertwined with vehemence. (Thanks psychegram).

This was not a pretty picture. Catching a glimpse of myself in a window sent a shock wave down my spine. The smile that is normally the first thing you will see of me had changed direction and was edging its way to the floor. And the furrows between my brow had changed from lines of intensity to lines of insanity.

So lighting up a joint my 20 year old happens upon me and we sit down to talk.
He asks how long I have smoked – “oh give or take 462 full moons” I reply. Take away pregnancy and breastfeeding.
How often he asks –“ well one in the morning and one in the afternoon”.
At that point the doorbell rings and I immediately dive into the bushes to avoid social interaction. Why would I want to talk to anyone is my immediate response.
He raises his eyebrows and in the gentlest way challenges me to stop my life of devotion to the goddess ganja.

I had not even thought about it. Never beat myself up about it, it was just who I was, but in the few minutes following his challenge, neurons fired up and a decision was made (way out of my control) that it was time and that was it.
For 6 weeks and a few hours the goddess and I have walked separate paths.

Unbelievable bursts of anger have appeared that I did not even know were harbored in this body mind. Lethargy reigns supreme and it is just a question of getting through the day. Still diving away from any social interaction, still looking for that sweetness which used to present itself with each inhalation.

Then an internal messenger informed me that perhaps if I lowered the toxicity levels of this body, joy would be forthcoming. So on day 4 of a grape fast (from an organic farm), I sit and write this, knowing that you beings out there in this particular sphere are a great gift and a smile of gratitude appears on these lips.

2009-02-07T02:22:00.000-08:00

She arrives at dusk.
That time of day that when you are travelling and it is all around you, transitory, itinerant and seemingly timeless. The time of day when the sky hovers for an eternity in the indigo phase. The day has left the sky blue stage and is preparing to merge into the blackness and yet is still carrying light.

The taxi departs. The birds preparing for sleep, the crickets preparing for a night of music. A magical time where it always seems as if one is on the threshold of something marvelous.
The daily death of the day. Exactly when it happens is never noticed, always comes as somewhat of a surprise.

The stone building appears rather somber and cold . She stands at the larger than life wooden door. Shifting slightly from foot to foot as she awaits an answer. She views the antiquated bell she has rung and wonders if it works.

An owl swoops down and lands in a grove of trees just behind the house. She startles and when startlement has abated, her face gleams in appreciation of the symbol.

In a few moments her mind has jumped around a field containing a myriad of thoughts. Unrelated, non-relevant and extremely busy.

She presses the bell again. Her face tightens somewhat. Her lips clench, her eyes blaze. Anticipating that she might be observed she consciously relaxes her body and half smiles. After another eternity her attitude has changed from anxiousness to agitation and finally settles in belligerence. She finds herself muttering under her breath. She finds that the night is fully present with no luminous envoys.

Blackness surrounds. Her eyes flash on a white shutter, a stone wall and a single Moonflower, its scent divine and yet not bearing sufficient power to dissuade the rising disappointment which always manifests as anger.

Knowing by now that no one is home she rings incessantly, all the while raging.

Yet rage has a way of wearing itself out and makes place for a sense of futility to find a home. She heads for the grove of trees where she last saw the owl. She lies to the side of the circle. Something about being in the centre never did fit well with her. She places an additional layer of clothes on, and drinks from an emptying bottle of water. Deciding to do what she always does at times of uncertainty, she lies down. Her head uncomfortably high on her luggage, but unwilling to seek out comfort and remedy the situation.

Looking above her she sees the owl, motionless above her except that it is obvious it is watching the surroundings with such intensity as if to give it an appearance of imminent flight. She feels blessed. Life has put this magnificent bird above her head. The only other time she had been with an owl was a dead one that her youngest son adored for a day before the burial.

Just as she was pondering the importance of this, the owl flew off and suddenly the symbol became a past tense object and therefore lost its sacred awe.

She felt the first mosquito bite demanding a scratching. With a grunt she sits up and heaves her rug sack in front of her with about as much grace as a birthing hippopotamus. She has to pull out the bags stuffing until she can reach what she is seeking. Her eyes are not involved in the search; her hands have to do the task. They eventually touch something hard and smooth and triumphantly she pulls out a bottle of lavender oil. Smearing it on the exposed parts of her she ponders her situation. Then decides it is too bleak. Don’t contemplate the nearest town, don’t contemplate the failed arrangement. The only thing left for her to do would be to follow the path of self-enquiry. Life often creates situations where this is the last option. Never life threatening situations. Although sometimes these as well, but mostly mundane circumstances. No the only thing for her to do is to lie back and ask “who am I’. It is what she has learnt as the main tool in stopping the mind rushing ones emotions into an abyss of despair.
The shift from minding to being.

It followed like this for a time.
“Why did this happen”?
“To whom did it happen”?
“To me”
“Who am I”.

This process of enquiry is ultimately meant to lead to the discovery that there is no me that can be found. The point to discover where the I meets the source. For her it had never produced feelings of anything other than exerting the question to the thought and chopping the thought down. The moments between thoughts supposedly become longer and more profound, but for her the thoughts came as rapidly as Bush’s revenge for the September 11 attacks.

So here in the dead of night, we find a somewhat resigned woman asking the same question again and again until blessedly sleep made its way through the minds battlefield. She dreamt that night she was driving a fire engine from the back seat. She found it rather awkward.

She awoke in the hushed dawn. Just before night surrenders and yet the birds have already started their day. She goes to the outside of the grove and has a pee. Returns to her rug sack and continues to lie down. From her horizontal position she surveys the surrounds. The house looks as uninhabited as it did in the previous night’s darkness. It is abandoned.

How typical of her to follow a whim. To take this journey trusting that things don’t change and that she will be received here as she has in the past.
In her mind she was journeying here to have a break, in the presence of this remarkable teacher.
It did not occur to her to check up on availability or the possibility of death or such.

Hunger gnawed, she knew with absolute certainty that she would have to walk to the nearest town, and that it would be long, and that her rug sack was too heavy with books etc.
Angry and dejected she hoists the bag onto her bag, grunts and heads off into the sun.

Deal with it ego.

2009-01-29T01:50:00.000-08:00

The magician came to me today, between the thorn tree and the tree thorns. He spun a somersault and landed upright in the air. Greetings to you he said with an enormous grin, our journey together can finally begin.

He held a stone as soft as silk that flowed like mercury in all directions and yet remained contained in his hand. Do you see how this stone looks so solid? Do you not look at this stone, kick it in the dirt and not even begin to see its true essence.
You have separated it from yourself by arbitrary labels that you assign to it, so you can never really experience what it is beyond the flatness of words.
Do you see the cloud that paints portraits for your eyes to feast upon? The clouds whose shapes lull you into the eternal lullaby.
Do you hear the wind, the spirit and voice of truth that speaks to your soul at all times?
Do you see the sun throbbing with power and strength and see that your existence is his existence? Do you see the moon and feel her love shining in the silver luminous mist
And the stars, do you see how they exist because you exist.

And his grin faded and was replaced with a loving frown, a frown that understood the reservations and behavior patterns. Do you not see that what arises are not who you are. And yet you cannot stop the arising. Do you see that it is suffice for you to simply see, simply be and within that realise the truth. That you have done nothing wrong. That you are not playing games. That you are nothing but innocence as is everyone else. And the lessons you create keep you into guilt. Because if you are not good enough then you must get it wrong. And to get it wrong means you must make mistakes. And that means that you are judged and therefore need to seek forgiveness. And above all it means you are separate.

His smile appeared again and still the stone flowed in all directions around his hand, forming, melting, forming. Yes you are beginning to see and that is why I am here stretched into the branches of this tree. And as this tree is shedding more and more clothing every day. So are you. And soon your foliage will be stripped and you will be standing entirely naked, vulnerable and yet trusting that ……………you are not sure what, but somewhere in the depths of your being and in rising consciousness you are aware that it is all as it should be.

And what will sustain you he hears you asking in the silence of the noise. He answers: The sun, the moon, the stars, and the earth. And for those who can look at you naked, unadorned and see the fruit in the barrenness – this is what will sustain you. For you shall hear music in every footstep, you will see Life in every face; you will see truth in every situation. So let me beckon you to awaken to the presence that is all pervasive. Let me encourage you to leave the dream you have been so intent on. Because you will always have something to defend, something to fear, something to love. Put is all down, all eons of defensiveness you have worn like armour ………….When it arises, don’t respond. Don’t defend. Smile, breathe deeply. Ask who am I? And ask and ask and ask until it becomes apparent what you are not.

And when I looked again, the magician had disappeared. On the ground lay a solid looking brown stone. Picking it up, the wind blowing my hair, the sun bleaching my hair, the moon pale in the daylight, the tree stretched to eternity. I put the rock to my lips and kissed its cold warmth and gave thanks for the opportunity to walk away from and disengage from the belief that anything needs to be different from what is right now.
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